#born to be pretty forced to be ugly

[trvffle4]

Yeah I’ll talk about being ugly for as long as I am, I didn’t ask to be subjected to the consequences of it.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun (FULL VERSION)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

(Warnings: forced relationship, implied nsfw content, implied noncon/dubcon, dark content, implied baby trapping)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

You comply, dropping your bag, making your way to the bed. When you look at him from beneath your lashes, warily expectant, Satoru feels a thrill rushing through his body. 

He's always been impatient. It's in his nature to take. He nips at your mouth, eager to taste your soul from your soft lips. Soft. Everything about you is so soft—Malleable beneath his fingers. 

Satoru didn't explicitly say what his plan was, but you aren't stupid. He can tell you know what's about to happen when you stiffen in his hold, turn to stone within his grip. He would've allowed it if you hadn't gripped onto his shirt, pulling yourself away from his feasting. 

"Satoru?" You whisper, still leaning away. "The door...?" 

Annoyed, he glances over. His room is open. It shouldn't really matter. 

"It's fine." Satoru tells you. "No one's here." No one's ever here. 

You still look panicked, hands gripping his shirt. Satoru finds that adorably pathetic. How helpless you are. How that's all because of him.

He's sure to make a big show of it. Satoru gives a dramatic sigh, slumps his shoulders, but eventually pushes himself off the mattress to push at the door. He even clicks it shut. He's too nice, sometimes. 

"Happy?" You nod, you don't look very relaxed but your shoulders have dropped a bit. 

Satoru doesn't feel too guilty pushing you down, not when you're already in his bed. He isn't known for his patience. He tastes your skin, leaving marks when he can: teeth bites. He pushes you down down down down so he can sink his teeth into your flesh.

You're asleep and under the covers by the time he's done. The moon's out too. Satoru watches it, largely unimpressed. It's so tiny, a sliver of glowing white. 

And then you shift, turning ever so slightly, enough to catch his attention. He should probably kick you out and send you home. That's what he usually does. When he gets into bed with you, draping his arms around your limp body, he convinces himself it's because he's tired and waking you up would be too much of an effort. 

He lets himself enjoy your warmth; it's nothing like the cold glow of the moon. 

☾

Sometimes, even Gojo Satoru wonders if he's dreaming. 

Sometimes, life is too perfect for him to realize it is real. Everything falls perfectly in place, fitting together like those jigsaw puzzles his caretakers used to distract him with halfheartedly. 

You're in his kitchen, chopping vegetables. 

It had already been a few weeks, but he still wasn't used to this. You, being in his home, in his kitchen, in his bed. Satoru thinks he's masking it well, but his mind is still reeling, it's a difficult adjustment. 

Not a bad one. 

It's like he's been drowning for years and he can suddenly breathe when he sees your toothbrush next to his. It's like he's been stabbed and waking up to your sleeping face is the aloe. It's like he's been suffering through a blizzard, and you cooking in his kitchen, humming a song he doesn't know, is the warm sunny day. 

Things have changed since he brought you home. His home doesn't feel incomplete anymore. As though the apartment itself has agreed that this is where you belong. There are more clothes in his closet, more shoes by the door. The space is ever so slightly less empty and it fills him with tangible relief. He can cook a meal, but it's still nice coming home to something warm already made. 

It makes Satoru wonder what things could have been like, had it not been taken away from him. 

You flinch when he wraps his hands around your waist, nestling into the space in your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come in, apparently. Regardless, you don't linger, fingers hesitating before resuming your task. He finds this part of you adorable. Ignoring the thing that makes your heart race, as though he'll just fade away into the shadows. 

It's his ego that makes him slink into your warm skin, making sure you know he isn't going anywhere. 

"Smells good," he says. 

You nod, pushing away the bell peppers in favor of the onions. Unlike him, you acclimated extremely well. It'd taken nothing to lightly push you to add more and more stuff from your apartment to his. You quietly moved from one setting to another. He remembered this trait of yours from high school. Go with the flow. 

Though, perhaps, it was less out of genuine apathy. Satoru doesn't have to say what will happen to you if you refuse him. He doesn't have to throw lectures about his family and the influence he has on you. He likes that you aren't stupidly brave. He likes that you're meeker, quieter. You pick your battles. 

But he thinks he'd like to see you crack, just one more time. 

"Hey," he says, "let's go out for dinner tomorrow night. There's this restaurant just out of town that has great shrimp cutlet." 

He expects you to nod, like you always do whenever he decides to do something impulsive and meaningless. Instead, you bite your lip. 

"I can't." You mutter after a minute of silence. "I have work. Mr. Higuruma just closed a deal and—and I think I'll be coming home later and later this week." 

Home. It's enough to make his heart flutter. It's the first time you've called the apartment that. Your words almost make him forget about the second thing you said.

Higuruma. The lawyer guy with dead eyes. Satoru remembers him. He always looked at Satoru like he was a child, too stupid to do anything. He never liked how the guy looked at you. Besides, he was way too old for you, never mind that you were taken. You were always taken.

"Oh, right." Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, fully leaning on you. "Work. What a shame." 

You nod, clearly thinking the conversation is done with. Satoru wasn't so charitable. 

"Y'know, you don't really have to work. Not anymore, pretty girl." His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he pulls you towards his chest. Your hands freeze. The knife glints in your fingers. 

"I make plenty of money. You should just stay home. That way, you don't have to work shitty hours." 

You stiffen underneath his fingertips. He's disappointed when your skin turns frigid. When he peeks over your shoulder, intent to look at your face, there's a nervous smile twitching on your lips. 

"I don't think that's a good idea..." you trail off hesitantly. 

"Hm?" He tilts his head with faux confusion. "Why not?" 

The knife moves up and down, as though you can't decide whether to place it back on the cutting board. Satoru realizes it's your way of fidgeting. 

"It...it would just be unprofessional to leave when everything is so hectic." You finally decide on. 

Satoru scoffs. "So? Who cares. I'm sure everything will work itself out. Just rely on me, pretty girl." 

You don't like the answer, but you don't make a comment on it. Satoru just watches you rotate the knife in your hands. He wonders if you want to use it on him. Slice at his neck, leave him out to bleed on the pretty tile floor. Cut straight through his heart, ending it quickly. 

Or would you like to carve out his eye and keep it as a souvenir? He thinks he'd happily let you. It sounds romantic.

You don't do anything. Instead, you pull back your shoulders as if you're physically ready for war. 

"'Toru," you say gently, softly, and it works in his eyes, "I...can't let you support me like this. It's not right. It's not like we're married or anything." You laugh, like it's a joke. Satoru doesn't cave. 

"I mean, not yet." Satoru rocks you back and forth in his hold. "But gimme' some time to shop for a ring, okay? It needs to be perfect for my perfect girl." 

You follow his movements. He can see your mouth twitch out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes get glassy. 

He knows he's terrible, but he really wants you to crack. 

"You're right, Satoru." You say, "I'll put in my two weeks tomorrow." He grins in delight. 

"That's a great idea, baby." Satoru kisses you on the cheek.

Right, you pick your battles. 

☾

Satoru tells you he loves you, and you're gone, not even three days later. 

He breaks and shatters into pieces he'll never be able to put back. Each day without you is torture. He feels like a corpse, just going through the motions. His clothes feel looser. His skin doesn't feel like his own anymore. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees someone he barely even recognizes. 

It's like you left with his heart. 

No, you ran away with his soul. 

One day, you were Satoru's, safely tucked underneath his arm...the next, you just weren't. 

His parents don't acknowledge it beyond casual disgust. Every time Suguru talks to him, Satoru can barely comprehend it. Days pass by. Everything reminds him of you. His bed feels emptier; he hates it when he reaches out to the space you used to take up and finds it cold. Your locker remains untouched. Nothing is ever the same. 

Satoru tries looking for you, but you're untraceable. No social media, no friends left to tell where you went, not even your fucking parents know where you are. 

You left him. 

You left him to rot. 

Denial comes first. It can't be. You wouldn't. You wouldn't fucking dare. Anger seeps in the next. For weeks, Satoru can only imagine what he'll do when he finds you. He'll break your legs this time. He'll squeeze your neck so hard that your head pops. He'll kill you over and over again until your corpse is begging to be forgiven. And he won't ever stop, because you're Satoru's. 

That doesn't stay for long. He feels himself get weaker day by day. Food tastes like dirt on his tongue. Any of his earlier vices are gone. 

He misses you. 

Why wouldn't he? You were his everything. 

Like all things, it passes. You aren't there to fuel the flames, so the fire wanes in his chest. The ache in his heart gets smaller and smaller. Things keep him busy. College. Then, his new position in the office. 

Ten years pass. He’s forgotten what you look like. But he remembers parts. Every so often, he sees a flicker of you within someone else. Your eyes are on another woman’s face. Your lips on a girl's smile. It irritates him to no end. It’s even worse when he starts seeking them out, keeping those parts of them for just the night. 

Sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear your voice—what he thinks is your voice—soft, needy Toru Toru Toru. 

“Gojo, sir?” 

He blinks. Ijichi stands in front of him. Satoru looks down at the meticulously crafted pages. 

“Mr. Higuruma needed you to sign this,” Ijichi lifts a paper filled with bureaucratic bullshit he pays other people to understand.

Why did Suguru take off now? 

“Sure sure,” Satoru says, “I’ll get it done.” 

Ijichi shifts nervously. “Well, it’d be best to finish it right now, Sir. His paralegal is just about to leave the building.” 

Oh, right. The lawyer’s assistant. Gojo could never get a good look at that person, but the assistant resembled a shaking deer to him at most times. He’s not even sure if they’ve ever talked to each other, but he always found the other a bit odd. Big eyes. A shaky expression. 

It was a little annoying to look at. 

☾

Some executive was throwing an office gala, and since he is Gojo Satoru, he needed to come along. 

And since you are Satoru's, you're dragged along too. 

Honestly, the only upside to this is you and that new dress he bought you. A velvet turquoise dress that he can't take his eyes off of. The gold jewelry draped across your neck makes you even more delectable. But his favorite part of the outfit is the shimmering diamond ring. 

The ceremony hadn't been anything extravagant. He'd just booked out one of his favorite restaurants, ordering lobster and sweet wine. He remembered hearing his heartbeat when he bent down on one knee, opening the elegant ringbox, like an oyster revealing its pearl. Looking back, he didn't know why he was so nervous: it's not like you'd say no. 

"What do you think of it?" He asked when you were back in his bed, bare from everything except that glistening ring. 

"It's pretty." You spoke, perfectly nestled in his chest. 

He feels in his heart when he hugs you, a small kiss in your hair. You say something, but he can't hear it; he is too preoccupied with feeling you in his arms. It's still so new, even after all these weeks. It's the anxiety, knowing at any second you could leave and he'd be nothing. He won't allow that, he can't. 

"I thought about something else, y'know?" He speaks quietly in your hair. "Ropes, chains, maybe. I could keep you here, forever. But—but then I realized how sad you'd get. I couldn't go through with it." 

You give no reaction. When he tilts your chin up to get a better look at you, your eyes are glassy. 

"You get that, right?" 

You nod. He's really too nice, sometimes. 

He spends the entire evening with you, tucked away in a corner, away from prying eyes. Just because he has to be there doesn't mean he has to be sociable. Every time someone walks up to him and you, a drink in one hand, he resists the urge to bite their head off, feigning politeness. He complains about their lack of decorum to you multiple times throughout the night, his head resting on your shoulder. You pliantly sit there, listening and nodding. 

About ten minutes after the last board member left, someone else walks up. By then, Satoru's patience has mostly declined. He peers over with disdain before he can really process who he's seeing. 

"Suguru!" He waves over. 

You stiffen, and Satoru remembers you haven't seen him in ten years. 

Suguru walks over with an easy smile on his face. He's nicely tanned, and Satoru is reminded of the pictures he sent over of the Maldives. Maybe that's where the honeymoon should be. 

"Had fun slacking?" Satoru asks with a grin; Suguru shrugs. 

When his eyes meet yours, he feigns delighted surprise. Suguru speaks your name with practiced shock. It's imperfect, only Satoru can see the amusement dripping from his fangs. 

"Long time, no see!" Effortlessly, Suguru corrals you into a hug. You follow, giving into the cold touch of affection before pulling away back to him. 

"Hello, Geto." You say when you're rightfully by his side again. "It's nice to see you again." 

Suguru laughs, light and airy. "You as well!" He looks at your hands, tilts his head. "Oh? Congratulations, you two! When's the date?" 

"Eh, we'll figure that out later." Satoru gives a quick kiss on your cheek. "Everything happened so fast, y'know? Us reuniting and everything: It feels like fate." Suguru's eyes flash. "Let's not rush this. We'll take our time." 

Suguru nods along thoughtfully. He's looking right at you, and you stare right back. Not used to feeling left out, Satoru is quick to intervene. 

The conversation is light, two long-time friends reuniting after a long spell. You stay quiet like decor, settling into Satoru's side. Suguru doesn't acknowledge you after that. 

"We gotta' go. It's getting late." He eventually says, tugging you along. 

Suguru gives a pleasant smile. "Of course, of course. We should catch up sometime." He directs this at you. You give a strained smile before Satoru leads you off. 

"Suguru." The man turns. Satoru grins. 

"I loved my gift. Thanks, man." 

Suguru's smile is catlike. 

"You kids have fun." He calls out right when Satoru's dragging you away all over again. 

You're silent. Not in the way you usually are, pliant and cute. You're thinking. He gives you a nudge. 

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" 

You shake your head. "Nothing." And then you say, "He's changed." 

From your view, Satoru supposed that's true, but really—

"Nah." Gojo shakes his head. "He's just dropped his act." 

Satoru's hand was wrapped around your waist when you two ran into him. You hadn't noticed him yet, eyes fixed on the floor. The lawyer hadn't changed since the last time Satoru saw him. That dead expression, those creepy eyes. Higuruma's eyes flit over your figure, before he finds Satoru's. 

He stares. Satoru stares right back. Something gives, and the lawyer calls out your name. 

"How are you?" His tone is cool, and this is another reason why Satoru can't stand him. The guy has no tells. He's just a talking robot. 

Unlike you, fidgeting by his side, practically vibrating with nerves. 

"I'm fine, sir." Your smile gets more painful to look at by the second. 

Your voice earns you a tired smile, a mild pinch of humor. Higuruma shakes his head, waving you off. 

"No need for formalities. We aren't at work." His smile drops just a bit, as he watches you for a bit more, eyes flickering to your hand. "I was...surprised when I saw the announcement. I didn't know you and Mr. Gojo were involved." 

Satoru grins, making himself known like a shark in the water. His grip on you tightens. 

"Oh, you didn't tell your boss 'bout us, baby?" He looks down at you with cruel mirth, pinching your cheek. You wilt. "We go way back—highschool sweethearts. Lost contact for a couple years. It's actually thanks to you we were able to find each other again. We'll send you the invites." He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

Higuruma hums at that. Satoru expected jealousy in his eyes; he's even more upset when he finds none. 

"I'll be sure to save the date." 

Then he shuts Satoru down completely. 

"I heard about your resignation. It's sad to see you go," Higuruma says. 

You nod, but you don't look at him. "Satoru and I talked about it, and we decided it's best if I focused on other things." 

"Very, very busy, this one nowadays." Satoru interrupts. "Between wedding plannin' and all that."

"Is that so?" Higuruma says dismissively, "in any case, you already knew this, but I've begun preparations to start a new firm." He reaches into his wallet, pulling out a card. "I always thought you were good at what you do. If you ever want to get back into the industry, call me." 

You take the laminate slip with a quiet thank you. Satoru feels blue turn into red. 

When Higuruma slips into the party, Satoru tightens his grip on you a little harsher than necessary. He's dragging you through the halls. Behind him, he can hear you stumbling over your heels, begging him to slow down. He knows he should care, but he doesn't. That damn lawyer. Those dead eyes. Mocking him. 

"Did you fuck him?" He asks when his anger has reached a high enough peak that he presses you against the wall. 

Your eyes are wild, flitting back and forth. He'd your expression a little cute if he wasn't feeling like a furnace, at the moment. 

"No. I—we never." You say. "Mr. Higuruma was my boss. And—and he's married—" 

"Really? 'cause you're precious 'Mr. Higuruma' was eyeing you up and down like he's already seen what's underneath." 

"'Toru." You plead. "Let's—let's just talk about this at home. Please? Let's just go home." Home. You said that word again. If he were a better man, he'd melt, but he's not. 

"Shut up." He spits out. "Hike up your dress." 

You stare at him. Then, you try to smile, like he's making a shitty joke. It wavers on your lips. 

"It's...we're still in public." You whisper and it's so cute you think he'd actually care about that. "We—we can't...we shouldn't—" 

"Baby." His voice drops, as he licks at your neck. "Pull up your dress, get rid of those panties. Otherwise, I'm just gonna take it off myself." 

He doesn't need to explain anything further. You already get what he's saying. Right now, Satoru doesn't care if you leave this building with your clothes intact. 

He thinks the worst part is that he knows he's being unreasonable. He's backing you into a corner where you'll have no choice but to surrender, and he knows that, but he keeps thinking about those man's eyes and how he looked at you and it was just all so much. 

He'll apologize to you later, with flowers and shiny gold earrings. He'd give you the world; just be good for him now. 

He just needs his fix. So just be good for him now.

☾

When Satoru discovers it's been you all along, he feels like an idiot. 

In a pathetic way of defending himself, he convinces himself there's no way he could have recognized you. You're so different compared to your high-school self. 18-years old, fresh-eyed, naive. The you now is all grown up: a mature voice, a new hairstyle, clothes he'd never even think you'd wear. 

It also didn't help that he couldn't even see your face since you turned away every time he looked at you. 

Embarrassing. He's just glad Suguru wasn't here to call his blunder. 

He thought about it a lot. He spent an hour in his office, pacing around, doing nothing but thinking and thinking and thinking. Part of him wants to corner you already. He can already feel your rabbit heartbeat on his fingertips, the look you always had in your eyes when he was right in front of you. Part of him wants to ruin your life the same way you ruined his. He wants to tear you apart, piece by piece. Leave you in tattered pieces. 

But he can't do that. Satoru still loves you. 

You left him a hollow shell. Broken. Tainted. There are pieces of him he still can't find. He should hurt you. He's hurt other people for doing less. But they weren't you. Even after all those years, he's never quite stopped loving you. 

But he wants to sate his bloodlust, just a tiny bit. 

His perfect opportunity comes where he, the lawyer, and you are all sitting in one of the waiting rooms. The lawyers explaining something, possibly about the ongoing case. Satoru doesn't really care. Besides, this is what Ijichi's here for. 

He waits until everyone is quiet. You're unassuming. By then, your shoulders have lowered, like you think you've gotten away with it 

"Hey," he says, "do we know each other?" 

The other two don't bother, but you stop completely. The pen in your grip shakes. Satoru resists the urge to laugh. 

You timidly glance up like you're still delusional enough to think there's a fifth person he's talking to. Satoru has always been told his eyes are like two suns: bright and intense. He lowers his glasses. You wilt under the solar flares. 

"Hm?" He prods, enjoying the way you shrivel. "Have we?" 

You swallow, glassy eyes flicking from side to side. Finally, you clear your throat. 

"No." You mutter, voice barely a whisper. "I don't think we have." 

"Are you sure?" To intensify the magnifying glass, he leans closer, like he's examining you. "'cause you look really familiar." 

To his delight, you chew on your bottom lip. He can imagine biting it until it's bloody and raw. He stops just when you're about to shatter completely. Breaking you too soon would take the fun out of it. 

"Oh, wait. I don't think that was you." He relents, pulling back and he can see the relief ooze over your face. "I think I got you mixed up with someone who interviewed here a couple months ago. My bad. Maybe you have one of those faces." 

You nod, eager to take the out. 

"Yes," you quickly say, "one of those faces." 

How adorable. You haven't changed since high school. 

He's usually not this obvious, but Suguru isn't here to berate him about it and it's not like anyone else will get on his ass. The women he brings in are his usuals: tall models with full lips and perfect bodies. Satoru parades them around like expensive jewelry. He wants to see you seethe in envy, stew in it. He wants you to see what you abandoned. 

But you don't do any of that. You just sit there, like the dutiful little workbee you are, right by your boss's side.

And then, you give one of them your jacket. Satoru can't stand it wrapped around her waist like she fucking owns it—own you. She wears it so flagrantly, like any token from you shouldn't be worshipped and coveted. He hates it. He hates it. 

"I've never done this in an office before." She squeals when she shuts the door behind her. "So, how do you—" 

"Get out." 

The girl pauses. What was her name again? Satou was too pissed to give a single shit. 

"Um, what?" 

"What, you deaf or something?" He waves her off as if he weren't seething. "Get out." 

"Oh," she says, blinks, and then she takes a step back. 

"Wait." Satoru stops her. 

"Take that off." He points to your jacket. She does it with zero complaints. When he tells her to drop it on the chair, she follows that too. Reluctant expectation. Kind of like you. Maybe that's why he was initially invested in her. 

He only takes the fabric after she's gone. It's soft underneath his fingertips. Nothing designer, but good quality. When you're finally underneath him again, he'll buy you better clothes, all the jackets you want. 

He needs you. He can't wait anymore. 

He needs you, whether you want him or not. 

☾

Satoru wakes up to something crashing. 

It's faint, obviously coming from the bathroom. Not the best way to be woken up. He remembers the first few nights he brought you home. He'd hear you crying in your sleep, choking on tiny sobs. It was the sweetest little thing, like a whimpering puppy. 

These noises are a little more concerning. 

He yawns, sliding out of bed. You didn't bother locking the door. You didn't even close it all the way, either. A sliver of light comes from the crack before he pushes it open. 

"Baby?" He calls. You don't answer. 

You had knocked over a caddy. Toothbrushes, hairclips, soap dispensers, perfume bottles were scattered all over the floor. You're curled up in the corner of the bathroom, huddled right next to the tub. You seem physically okay, no blood, no bruising, but he can't see your face. And you're shivering. 

Satoru's about to call out to you, when he steps on something. He looks down at the tiles. 

A positive pregnancy test. 

"I'm not keeping it." Your voice is hoarse, like you've been crying for hours. "I'm not keeping it." 

"Pretty girl." He coos, trying his best to keep the glee out of his voice and failing. "Let's not worry 'bout that, right now. C'mon, let's get you off the floor." He reaches for your hand. You smack it away. It stung. 

When you look at him, eyes bloodshot and brimming with angry tears, Satoru's heart skips a beat. He feels like he just trapped a wild animal, making it pace in a corner. Any wrong move could result in his hand getting bit off. It's scary. 

He's finally cracked you. 

"Fuck you." Your voice shakes and wobbles, but it's loud and you're clear. "Fuck you. You're a sick, twisted man-child. You ruined everything. You ruined my entire life and—and now you—" 

You're cut off by his giggling. It sounds psychotic even to his ears. He's beyond caring. You flinch when lifts your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes. He's smiling so hard it hurts. 

"Yeah, I did that. I ruined you. I ruined your entire fucking life. For me." He stresses, squeezing your face so hard you try to pull away. "But I had to. You—you wouldn't be here if I didn't." He sighs, pressing your body to his. "I need you."

You're both huddled on the bathroom floor, captive and lover. He's clutching you to his chest, smiling, nestling his face in your hair. You don't say anything for a while. 

"I'm not keeping it." You whisper. "I'm not. I wouldn't stand it if it ended up like you." 

It's spiteful. You're still in that phase where you think your venom can hurt him, as though he'd see your blows as anything but blessings. Satoru thinks to his own childhood. Where he was given everything, lathered in gold and silver. Yet, the house was always cold. But you were always so warm. 

"That won't happen." He tells you. "'cause you're here." 

Your anger has dwindled to smoke. Maybe you've finally realized how crazy he was for you. 

"Please let me go." It's not a beg. It's not even a request. 

"I can't," he honestly says. 

"You won't." You correct him. 

He smiles in your hair. 

"No baby," he says, "I can't." 

If you ran away again, if you escaped his claws, he'd probably die. Drop dead, rot on the floor. He needs you. Even more than he needs food, water, and oxygen. You won't understand that. You've never been in love before. 

You don't fight him. If anything, you sink into his hold. He's there to catch you, heart soaring. You lean into his chest 

"I hate you." You whisper. His heart beats a little faster. It's probably the first time you've ever been so honest with him. 

God, he loves you. 

"I hope our baby has your eyes," he says. 

"I hope our baby looks exactly like you." 

You say nothing, but when he leans down to kiss you, you finally kiss back. You're cracked, and your essence is ready to be molded in his image, just like he's always wanted you to be. 

If Satoru is the Sun, then you must certainly be his universe, the plane in which he rests, because there would be no existence for him if not for you. 

[heavenbarnes]

(tw allusions to murder and violence)

your older bf!simon who’s more accurately described as a gun dog.

trained to the sound of a gunshot- where you tell him to go, he’ll follow.

loyal like a hound, too. whatever heinous little mess you find yourself in, he’s there to clean it up.

lick the blood right off your hands.

“i didn’t mean to, he was being so awful- i just pushed him- i didn’t know his head would hit the curb!”

the tears in your eyes were doing less to convince him and more to make him harder between his thighs.

big thumbs, rough pads and blunt nails, pressed to your cheeks to wipe away the tears that were trailing off them.

“don’ worry, sweet’art- i’ll ‘andle it”

tells you to go inside and make a tea, let the kettle whistle long as you want. turn the telly up full tilt and put your feet up.

if you hear anything, don’t come looking.

so you do as you’re told, you curl into his side of the couch and you tune out the sound of the garage door opening, the distant sounds of dragging.

you don’t even flinch when you hear the first swing of an axe.

you forget, you’re free of thought when he takes you to bed and turns your brain to mush. lets it leak out your ears like-

anyways.

gun dog, retriever- picking up kill and dropping it at his master’s feet.

just once. he doesn’t like seeing you get dirtied by what he feels more aptly fits him.

after that, attack dog. hound waiting to be released, will bare his teeth if you so much as whistle.

“you should’ve seen the way he looked at me, simon”

his teeth could’ve shattered with the force in his jaw behind his bite.

“looked at me like he wanted me, thought that he owned me”

a visible shudder ran through him, visions behind his eyes of you with anyone else.

“told him i had you but- well, he said you didn’t matter”

so you stay inside and you forget, don’t even flinch when you hear simon get his keys and lace up his boots.

“i’ll be ‘ome soon”

you forget, isn’t till he’s kissing your forehead and laying you back on the couch that you even remember he was out.

long fingers wrapping around your ankle to sling over his shoulder. you don’t pay attention the the dried blood under his finger nails.

disregard the scratches down the length of his chest. replace them with your own.

“anyone ever gives y’grief, jus’ tell me and i’ll ‘andle it”

there’s a symphony of “yes, yes, yes” slipping off your tongue and you could blame it on clever fingers of his but-

you like being the hand that holds the leash.

fighting dog, ring dog- lay money on him and he’ll make you rich.

lay a finger on what’s his and he’ll make you pay.

“sweaty hands, tried to grab me when i walked past”

ignore the blood in the tread of his boots.

“called you weak, said a real man would’ve been out with me”

ignore the bite marks on the shell of his ear.

“called me a filthy slut- kind of the same way you do”

ignore the new wood chipper behind the house.

simon’s a big dog with loyalty in spades, born to serve one master.

you never ask so he never tells. play ignorant, blissful and unaware about what grows from the seeds you plant.

seeds scattered to the wind that happen to catch within him, seeds that take and grow gnarled and angry and looking for an excuse.

any excuse to show what he’s made of.

you know he’s always been a mean dog, you know he’s always had bite.

but you, of course, never worried your pretty little head.

not even when an ugly one turns up on the doorstep.

bad dog.

plays with his food.

[carpenterswife]

HALF OF ME (i)

SUMMARY: Despite appearances, you’d learnt Soldier Boy was, actually, capable of being a good man. Somehow, you’d wormed yourself into his good books, and had the rarest privilege of seeing him without the suit, the drugs, the ego, the everything. Just as things were going good, his heart somehow getting even warmer for you, the world separates you in the cruelest way.

PAIRING: Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3573

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Sexism (set in the 1980’s), typical Soldier Boy behaviour, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, questionable morals (peer pressuring drug use), sexual content, eludes to smut, Soldier Boy may be a bit OOC at times, gore.

SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST

Becoming a world famous supe was never something you’d ever wanted. Sure, you’d grown up with their photos on your bedroom walls, your father telling you stories of when the first ever supe came to be, insisting he fought alongside the Soldier Boy in the war

The people around you seemed to idolise them. These… mostly regular people in tight suits, pretending to be better than everyone else.

You knew better. You knew enough. Enough to know supes were dirty, and corrupt, and definitely not the heroes they presented themselves to be. That their hands were more blood than they were skin anymore.

And, frankly, you wanted nothing to do with Vought or Payback — or whatever the fuck those shitty, useless superhero teams were called. (Seriously, what did they actually do? Except sit in their pretty tower and take the peoples’ taxes?)

Your father, however, had different ideas.

So, at 18, you woke up in the hospital, after an ugly head collision, with superpowers you’d never had before. A miracle, the doctors called it, a supe whose extraordinary powers had been hidden for her whole life. When you got home, you forced the truth out of your father. Compound V, he called it, a new chemical made by Vought.

No one was born a supe, he admitted, it all came from a liquid in a vial. The truth hurt you, as much as it didn’t really surprise you. Chosen by God, my ass.

This wasn’t supposed to be your life.

But it’s certainly what it turned out to be.

Payback were as shitty, if not more, than you’d originally thought. Each of them had… many flaws. Soldier Boy, obviously, was the worst. If the Devil reincarnated himself, he’d look and act like Soldier Boy.

Simply talking to the man made you want to shoot yourself.

Well… it did at one point.

Two years down the line, things had changed. Soldier Boy was still insufferable, sexist, arrogant, and a major asshole. But… he wasn’t so much a dick directly to you, as he used to be. In fact, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was actually somewhat nice to you. As much as his macho heart could manage, anyway.

You noticed it the first time when he saved your life on a mission. He’d grabbed your waist when a grenade clinked at your feet, whirling you around and to the ground, squashing you against his firm chest, using his shield to protect you both from the hot blast. He’d shrugged it off as nothing; as something any leader would do for his team. Then you watched him hit Gunpowder about for not following his order to a T, and realised… maybe he did treat you different.

It was undeniable these days.

You were the only person on Payback that Soldier Boy could remotely tolerate.

“You need’a be more careful.” Despite the hard look on his face, Soldier Boy was staring down at you, as a Vought doctor wrapped clean bandages tightly around your midsection. It was a bullet to the wound; which, with being a supe, wouldn’t be too bad, but you didn’t heal inhumanely fast like he did. “You’re fuckin’ useless when you’re hurt.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for your concern, Soldier Boy.”

His eyes narrowed into a harsh glare. “Ben.” He corrected you, for what was probably the 50th time. Each time he did, he got more annoyed with you. “How many times do I have to say it? Is there a brain in that pretty head’a’yours?“

You grunted, spinning on the bed and hanging your legs off the side of it. “Thanks for the compliment.” Ben rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, not offering a hand as you groaned in discomfort and got to your feet. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be healed up by the time we set off for Nicaragua, if that’s what you’re worried ‘bout.”

Ben just grunted, displeased. “Ain’t happenin’.” He immediately shot that idea down. “We leave for Nicaragua in two weeks. You ain’t comin’. Sit this one out.”

You stared, expecting a joke. Clearly, he wasn’t. “Seriously?” You groaned, unhappy. What was it with this guy? “I’ll be fine. It’s a silly little bullet.”

“I was holdin’ your fuckin’ guts in your body.” He walked away, reminding you of just how bad your injury actually had been. He had, indeed, practically been keeping your guts inside of you as you bled out. “You ain’t going. You’re stayin’ here.” You chased after him, pulling your shirt on as you left the infirmary.

“Ben—“

He whirled around to face you. “I said, you’re fucking staying.” He growled, glaring down at you. God, were you glad you were on his side. This man was terrifying. Six feet of pure muscle, strength and violence. “You’re better off here, using that face of yours to get some PR.”

“And, what? The others will back you up?” You scoffed, grabbing his wrist as he went to walk away again. His expression went cold at your touch, but you didn’t flinch. As much as he tried to scare you, Ben wouldn’t raise a hand at you… probably. You had faith in the man. “They can’t fight for shit, Ben. Gunpowder hasn’t even discovered his own dick yet. You think you’re gonna have your back covered out there?”

He ripped his wrist away harshly. “I don’t need my back covered.”

“Everyone needs their back covered.” You argued. “Even you.”

He chuckled, sarcastic and dry. “You worried ‘bout me, princess?” You gave him a ‘seriously?’ look, as he took a step closer, mouth curled into that ever-infuriating smirk. “I’d perform better if you sent me off with a taste of that—“

“Ben.” You interrupted him, unimpressed. You rolled his eyes at his predictable behaviour. “I’m not gonna fuck morale into you.”

“Shame.” His eyes flicked up and down, tracing the curves of your body. “Bet you’d be a firecracker.” He walked away again, and you threw your hands up, groaning. Ben chuckled as he turned the corner. “Think it over, sweetheart.”

“You’ve got a hand.” You called back to him. “Use it!”

Conversations like that were very common with Ben.

It’d be a normal conversation (as normal as it gets with him) — and then he’d start talking about fucking you against the nearest surface, and all pleasantries went down the drain. Seriously, he thought 80% with his dick, and 20% with his actual brain.

And that was being kind.

But, beneath all of his macho assholery, was his genuine worry. You knew he wasn’t letting you accompany the rest of the team to Nicaragua because of your injury, despite how minor it was, and that he was worried you’d injure yourself further.

You’d never slept with Ben, despite how much he’d tried to charm you into his bed. Your relationship was strange. He flirted, you flirted — there were lingering touches. And, sure, he’d never put his dick in you, but his fingers were a different question. And… oh, boy, could that man use his hands.

It was like being in a relationship, just without the sex. Which was odd, as it was Soldier Boy. But, the way he smiled at you and treated you, it made you feel different to the other women.

He was just… shit it showing it.

Poor bastard wouldn’t know emotion if it slapped him in the face.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

“I am not wearing this.”

Okay… scratch all of that. Maybe Ben was just a dickhead.

He lounged back in his chair, grinning lazily, legs spread like he owned the place. He probably thought he did. “Why not?” He took a sip of his whiskey, ice clinking against the sides, eyes never leaving you from over the rim of the glass.

You held up the fabric. “Seriously?”

It was basically a scrap of fabric, with how much it covered up. You didn’t shy away from showing skin. You quite liked short skirts and pushing the line. Because, as a supe, there was a line. Vought liked it when you showed skin — apparently it made your ratings go up with the male fans, no shocker. But, too much skin on display, the male fans started calling you a whore, and the ratings shot back down.

It was a bit like a balancing game, trying to find the perfect amount of skin to make the boys ogle but also respect you. An impossible feat, truthfully.

And this? This was definitely classed as too much.

“I don’t see the issue.” His smirk said otherwise.

“My tits are not gonna stay in this, Ben!”

His smirk just grew. “Again, I don’t see the issue.”

You groaned and put the dress down. “No. I’ll get my own dress. I am not wearing that.” You tell him, arms folding across your chest. You didn’t miss the way he checked out your tits, and the way the placement of your arms accentuated them.

He rolled his eyes, obviously not happy with your decision. Leaning towards, elbows on his knees, Ben’s eyes took you in. “Why?” His head cocked to the side. “You’d look hot. It’d make your ass look great.”

“That’s not a compliment.” You grumbled, pushing a hand through your hair. Ben made a small grunt of disagreement, but didn’t say anything otherwise. “Listen, there’s a certain line. Alright? If I wear that, every guy out there will be callin’ me a whore. Okay? Imma find something else.”

He hummed and sat back. “I think you should wear that one.” Sighing heavily, you just rolled your eyes at his persistence. “All those assholes will be blowin’ their pants just lookin’ at you, sweetheart.”

“Again, not a compliment.”

Ben stared at you, and silently took another sip of his whiskey. He always seemed to think these crude, rather sexist and inappropriate remarks were compliments. Like commenting on your body. Or saying you’d be a freak in bed. Which were obviously not actually compliments.

You rolled your eyes, rubbing your forehead. “I’ll find another dress, Ben.” You told him, definitive. There was no way he was going to convince you to wear that dress.

“What a disappointment.” He grinned, lopsided. “I was lookin’ forward to seein’ you in that dress.”

“Again,” you deadpanned as he checked you out once more, “you have a hand… use it.”

Ben just smirked, and sipped his whiskey again.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

You wore the fucking dress.

The asshole always won. Always.

He looked so fucking pleased, as you walked into his after-party, wearing the dress he’d picked out for you. His smugness was clear, brushing through the crowd with ease to come to you.

Ben hummed, eyes dilating as he stared you down. His eyes lingered on your tits, as they always did. “You look…” he hesitated, trying to think of a compliment that wasn’t degrading, and failed, “fuckin’ hot. If you weren’t such a bitch, I’d bend you over right here.”

Your face pulled together in disgust, looking at him with your lips pressed together “… gross.”

He chuckled. “Drink?” He offered. “I got your favourite.”

And there he goes again.

Being nice.

It did your damn head in.

Accepting his offer, you shivered as his large hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. They all seemed to part like the Red Sea as he came through, a fact that amused you greatly.

Seriously. These women looked at him like he was Jesus reincarnated, when he’d totally call them in a whore in bed.

Ben silently reached out for your favourite alcoholic drink, pouring it into a glass. His eyes scanned over the room, smirking at a few of the women ogling, sending them rushing to their friends and squealing. He merely chuckled and handed you the full glass.

“Thanks.” You murmured, taking it from him. Your eyes stared up at him for a moment, curious, before looking away again.

What was it with him? How could be such an egotistical one minute, and then be nice and respectful the next? It was like a guessing game, trying to figure out what mood he was in.

He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm, but not enough to hurt you. “Come with me.” He guided you through the crowd once again, to the doors in the back. As he pushed through into the room, he flashed you a cocky grin over his shoulder. Dickhead.

This room was far quieter. You noticed, immediately, the only people present were supes and celebrities, not the random civilians that’d been granted a pity invite — or the women Ben thought were hot. This was the main party. There were drugs covering every table, with various big names passed out on the chairs, blazed.

Ben lead you to the corner, where he’d obviously already been busy, if the half-snorted lines of cocaine proved anything.

Silently, he offered you a line, which you gratefully accepted.

You didn’t do drugs before you joined Payback. In fact, you’d avoided them, promising yourself you’d never become that type of person. But it was the norm within Vought. Every supe spent their nights filling their bodies to the brim with various drugs, poisoning themselves. So, you started smoking weed to fit in.

Then Ben found out you only did weed, and decided it wasn’t enough. With enough pressure, he’d gotten you onto any other substance he could convince you to try.

It made you more attractive, in his eyes, as you spiralled into addiction like him.

In fact, it got him rock hard, to snort lines or share a joint with you. It was so fucking hot, watching your eyes glass over as you got higher with every hit, with every line. God, it turned him on so bad.

You snorted your third line of the night, when Ben suddenly pushed you back into your chair. Bewildered, you stared at him, as he snatched up a baggie of the white powder. Your heart leapt to your throat, the moment he moved aside the slit in your dress, revealing the bare skin of your thigh. All breath left your lungs, watching him pour some of the powder onto your thigh.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He was about to do a line off you.

He glanced at you through his lashes, smirking at the shocked and flushed expression you wore. He used his pocket knife to cut the lines, mindful of the sharp blade against your soft skin.

God, this was hot. He found it hot. You found it hot. It’d be a damn miracle if you ended the night with your clothes on at this point.

Your skin tingled as he sniffed up the first line, of his hands roughly gripping the top of your thigh to steady you, his other holding a rolled up $100 bill. He groaned in pleasure, body physically shuddering, head shaking, as the drug made his body run hot.

He did the next line, the grip on your thigh becoming tighter as his pupils began to blow up.

Was it getting hot in here? Or was it just you?

Maybe it was the cocaine in your systems, maybe it was the fact Ben was just… so damn hot, but you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing his hair and forcing his head up as he snorted the final line off your thigh.

He looked up at you, pupils blown, lips parted. Holy shit. This man was sculpted like a fucking God. Your body shivered. “You finally takin’ my offer, sweetheart?” He chuckled, shaking off the immediate effects of the cocaine, raising himself up to your level.

“Fuck me.” You whispered, breathless, practically begging him.

His eyes went dark, almost black, with lust. The smirk on his lips made you squeeze your legs together. “Don’t need to ask me twice.”

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

You now understood the hype. You understood why women bent their knees the moment Ben uttered a word to them.

Holy shit, did this man have talent.

Your legs were still twitching, the space in between your legs throbbing and tingling with how many times you’d come on his fingers, his tongue and cock. You’d counted four, before your vision had gone white.

Jesus, he had stamina. A glance at the clock on the wall confirmed it’d been just over five hours since you’d first fell into Ben’s bed. That super strength was better for more than just fighting, after all. This man should be advertised for his abilities. No shocker he was an American sex symbol.

He’d just fucked your brains out.

And now, he was staring at you with admiration, laid on his side, in the same bed he’d just railed you in. “You feelin’ okay?” He murmured, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah.” You rolled over to face him, a jolt of discomfort and pain in your hips and thighs. You might have to hold back on… doing anything for the next few days, however. “You didn’t break anything.” You joked, soft and breathy.

He chuckled quietly, hand sliding around your waist and dragging you closer to him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that.” He whispered, uncharacteristically soft and gentle.

“To fuck me senseless?”

He smirked. “Mm, I have dreamt of that.” Your eyes narrowed in mild disgust at the image of him having wet dreams about you, swatting his chest. He grinned and caught your hand. “No… I meant how long I’ve waited to have you. You’re fuckin’ perfect. Not just your body. Everything about you is so sexy.”

Your brows furrowed, squeezing his hand, and then worming your fingers out of his. “What do you mean?” You asked softly.

He seemed to struggle for a moment. He wet his tongue with his lips, making your body tingle again. Jesus. “Let’s get dinner.”

What.

“Me and you.” Ben smiled, tracing the curves of your body with a featherlight touch. “Real fancy. I’ll pay.” Was he… asking you on a date right now? The Soldier Boy, asking you on a date? Instead of fucking you and tossing you out?

“You’re serious?” You asked softly, surprised. When he nodded, you grinned, biting your lip to contain it. “Okay, Ben. Let’s get dinner.”

His eyes lit up. Ducking his head down, his lips touched yours, gentle and affectionate. His kiss spoke so many words; his hands gently cradling your body, as he kissed you like you were made of glass. The touch was intimate and loving, widely different to the one he’d used when he’d been on top of you.

No, this was completely different. This was him being vulnerable. This was him showing you just how he felt, without the words.

He smiled against your lips and pulled back, just enough to speak, but his words were still brushing yours. “Yeah?” He whispered, in response to your agreement.

“Yeah.” You stared at him with big eyes.

He grinned, almost boyish in its nature. He stared at you in adoration, seeming to be collecting the words on the tip of his tongue.

You giggled under his stare. You sat up, pulling him with you, grabbing the blanket that he had draped over his headboard. It was fluffy and warm, and smelt like his cologne, and you didn’t hesitate to wrap it around your shoulders, cocooning yourself.

If possible, his gaze softened even more. “You’re adorable.”

Quietly, you laughed. “You sure you wanna do this, Ben?” You stared back at him. Ben was nothing if not a womaniser. Settling down was nothing like him. “Get serious with me, I mean.”

“You’re the only one I’d ever want to.”

Your brows pulled together, confused. “Why?”

Ben soothed a hand through your hair, green eyes drinking in the perfections and imperfections on your face. “You’re the only one I trust.” His voice was gravelly, still heavy with the effects of your recent endeavours. His hand travelled through your hair, and then came down to cup your cheek.

Wrapped up in his fluffy blanket, your head rested on the wooden headboard. “I trust you, too.” You whispered, tilting your head into his palm. His skin was rough, painted with callouses and scars. Every scar on his body had a story. And you’d spend the rest of your life learning every single one.

Despite himself, he smiled at you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. “I’d kill for you. You know that?” His words made you shiver. Ben killing people wasn’t exactly new… or surprising. But doing it for you? God, it made your stomach heat up — and other parts. “These assholes don’t hold a candle to you, doll. Countess? That whore is— is repulsive compared to you.”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes affectionately. “Ben.” You scolded quietly, though not with an ounce of anger.

The supe just smirked, chuckling deep in his throat. “You want me to drop that bullshit PR relationship I have with her? I’ll do it. In a fucking heartbeat. I’ll be with you, publicly, if you want me.”

“You’d ruin your reputation for me?” Now that — that meant something. Ben could say anything and everything; he was a master manipulator. He could get anything he wanted with that smile and his suave words. But, if there was one thing he would always prioritise, it was his reputation. He’d do anything to be the alpha male. Anything.

“I’d do anything for you.” He grabbed your hand within his much larger one, guiding it to his chest. He pressed your palm over his heart, allowing you to feel his heartbeat. “I’ll do anything for you, to be with you.” You felt the steady rhythm of his heart. He wasn’t lying. That, or he was a great fucking liar. “I’m never leaving your side. I’m yours.”

Your eyes searched deep within his. “Always?”

Ben smiled. “Always.” He leant forward, gently pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss.

Three months later, Soldier Boy died in a nuclear meltdown.

A/N: jesus christ this took me so long to write 😭 but i’m so happy with how this first chap turned out. it’s gonna get so much more fun to write we get to the action 👀 pls lmk if there’s any mistakes, as i will go back n fix them !!! hope you enjoyed <3

banners by @cafekitsune

TAGLIST: @onlyangel-444 @deans-spinster-witch @fumolemon @anundyingfidelity

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4 - PART 5 (NSFW) - PART 6 - PART 7 (NSFW)

You started having the dream again. The disembodied eyes of your father floating in a black void. Just the eyes. Nothing else.

And for hours- and it really felt like hours- they would just stare at you. The eyes never moved, or blinked, or did anything other than hang in the air. But there was a terrible sense of dread when you looked into them. You couldn’t force yourself to look away.

And so that was why you had been losing sleep. You didn’t tell your mother that though. When she asked what troubled you, you made up some excuse to quell her worry. You could never tell her the truth; the truth that there was some piece of you left which never recovered. But guilt nearly destroyed your mother, and you couldn’t bear to let it fester in her any longer.

On Sunday you spread all of the ingredients the orc man gave you across your table. He didn’t even tell you the measurements. Your mother glanced down at you as she made her way to the root cellar. She stopped in her tracks, “By the Gods, are you making golden eggs?” You cocked your head at her questioningly. “Where did you find turmeric all the way out here?” She grabbed a pinch of it, “And so much of it too!”

“Uh-“ Your mother had a sparkle in her eyes that you hadn’t seen for a few years. She chuckled to herself, “Years ago. Many many years ago. There was a very nice orc family who lived just down the path. The wife taught me this recipe.”

Orc family? This was the first you have heard of an orc family. “You never told me you had orc friends Ma!” You jeered at her. She smiled warmly. “You hadn’t been born yet, of course you wouldn’t have remembered. Your elder sister loved playing with the little orc girl.” She reached for a jar from the cupboard and began concocting the mixture. When she was done the eggs swirled around in the vibrant yellow brine.

There was still turmeric left over, and your mother was so excited to show you how it could even be an excellent clothing dye. She took one of your more drab frocks got to work.

~

You weren’t used to feeling pretty. Sure, you knew you weren’t ugly by any stretch of the imagination. But to feel pretty? Beautiful even? It had been years.

But today, on regular Monday, you felt radiant. Your mother actually gasped when you stepped out of your room. You looked like a dream in the yellow shade your mother had dyed the fabric. She insisted on arranging your hair specially to go with the dress. “It’s just another Monday, Ma. Any more primping and I’ll be over-dressed.” The older woman sighed, kissing you on the forehead, “Fine go along now… before I start braiding daisies in your hair.” You giggled and practically skipped out the front door. Tucked in your basket was the jar of golden eggs.

The town square was nearly vacant, save for a few other shopkeepers opening up for the day. And then you saw the trio of orc men sharpening their arrows and adjusting the tension of their great longbows. You reckoned they were just about to leave for a hunt. Curse the Gods for your lingering gaze, but you made direct eye contact with one of them. You made direct eye contact with him. The orc you had bloodied and bruised the previous week.

Something (probably a lack of self-preservation) compelled you to start walking towards the bunch. If your mother could make peace with orcs, why couldn’t you? “But this isn’t a peaceful family with children, they’re trained killers, y/n…” You thought to yourself. The little muscle inside your chest was puttering away as you got closer. The two other hunting mates had started to notice your approach now. Your orc acquaintance had sort of a surprised yet dumb look on his face as you stopped before him.

”You didn’t write me a recipe, but you can thank my mother for knowing how to prepare these.” You extended the jar to him. His friends were snickering to themselves, and the orc just sat there staring at the contents of the jar. One of his buddies guffawed and whacked a big hand onto his back, “This simpleton can’t read to save his life… won’t be getting any recipes from him!”

You also held out the two silver pieces he had given you, and dropped them into his open palm. “And I can’t take these. Not after I injured you. Can we consider ourselves even now?”

“Khargaad, you didn’t tell us this was who the scuffle was with.” The other orc friend chuckled, “And look at that, not a scratch on her. Guess she won.”

Khargaad. Was that his name? Or was it a word in their mother tongue? He shot a venomous look to his friends, and with that they backed away leaving the two of you alone. “These look… like they’re supposed to,” He said in a tone of mild surprise. “Your mother… She knows other orcs?”

Was he trying to make conversation with you? “Um- Yes! Yes, it was a long while ago. They lived down the road from my family. It was before I was born, but they got along well from what I hear,” you replied. There was a deeply awkward pause before he glanced quickly at your dress. “Oh!” You gasped, “my mother taught me about this as well. The yellow stuff you gave me is an excellent clothing dye.”

“Yes, I know.” His tone was a little gruff. You felt foolish for telling him what he probably already knew. “Your name is Khargaad?” You blurted out. A hint of color rose to his cheeks, “Yup. Khargaad. And- um- what may I call you?”

”y/n,” you replied with a nervous smile. Silence hung over the both of you for a second. “Well, I’ll be on my way.” He said, turning on his heel to join his hunting mates. “Stay safe out there!” You responded. Your inner-self cringed, that reply was probably too familiar. He glanced back at you one more time before jogging to catch his friends.

~

The next day Milo found you sweeping outside the shop. “Why were you talking to those orcs?” He spat at you. You didn’t look up at him, “Just customers.” This technically wasn’t untrue.

”You don’t have orc customers”

”Says who. You?” You snorted at him, pushing the dust from the cobblestones onto his shiny leather boots. He yanked the broom from your grasp, “Why are you wearing that?” He hissed. You glared at him, wrenching the broom back from his grasp. “It’s none of your fucking business-“

“Let me buy you new dresses, y/n. You look like an orc.” You straightened a bit. “What do you mean?” Milo rolled his eyes. “It’s turmeric. They often dye their clothes with turmeric. It looks ridiculous if you ask me…” He trailed off. You were tired of this conversation, leaving him standing in the street. He didn’t bother to follow you inside.

The rest of the day was uneventful. You spent the last hour hammering some boards over the window still shattered from your target practice.

You didn’t notice Karghaad watching you across the square.

Thank you to everyone’s sweet comments, and to those who wanted a part 2 😘

@kennedyabraxas123 @allthecraftandthings @sunndust @blushycadaver @whyiamadegenerate @beaniebaneenie @reads-stuff-quietly

[zeisarinn]

igual que un angel — rin itoshi !!

heaven must have sent you to earth !!

my man !! + rin i love you !! + sassy man apocalypse !! + i need rin merch !!

rin itoshi was someone who always stuck to his schedule. always following the same routine from the moment he woke up until the moment he fell asleep. when you “forced” your presence into his life, he could never stick to his schedule ever again. always having things happen spontaneously around you was both a blessing and a curse. just like how you both were now half-way into watching the barbie movies, “here I am” playing in the background as you both watched Kiera dance to the music.

you watched the movie, humming to the music as rin played with your hair, the light and feathery touches making you want to fall asleep. you blink the sleepiness away, cuddling into rin’s side as your matching hot pink barbie themed pjs invaded your vision. you quietly giggle to yourself, thinking back on when he didn’t want to wear them at first until you practically forced him into the comfy fabric. 

your boyfriend was kind of dumb though, seeing as he still hasn’t noticed the way that you kept glancing up at him or maybe he was just being an annoying little shit again. gods, he was so insufferable at times… so pretty, I meant petty, I mean what? who said that? your boyfriend is so lovely, he would never hurt anyone (he would, specially if it was shidou). maybe to him, ignorance was bliss. a mischievous smile slowly starts to creep up your face, a grin forming as you look up at him. “rinnie,” you whine, a pout on your lips as you look up at him, watching as he barely even glances down at you when you call for him. you follow his gaze, tracing it back to the tv and realizing that he was watching the movie with his full attention. “...what happened to not wanting to watch a children’s movie, huh?” you ask him, a deadpan expression on your face as you reach your hand up to gently poke his cheek, a teasing smile on your face when he immediately looks away.

men are so weird, your boyfriend was definitely even weirder though. maybe he was a woman born in a man’s body, why was he always so much sassier than you anyways? maybe it was the itoshi genes in him or maybe he was a victim of the sassy men apocalypse or maybe this was a sign that you should’ve never made your boyfriend install tiktok. one moment it was “you look just as beautiful as the cherry blossoms” and the next was “you look like the ugly duckling.”

you watch as he huffs, a small pout forming on his lips as he not-so-discreetly glances back at the tv screen. you feel a laugh start to bubble up, giggles rocking your body as you hug rin even tighter. you lean up, pressing a kiss to his cheek and pouty lips before pulling away, watching as he playfully glares at you. you nuzzle your face into his neck, breathing in the light citrus scent of his body wash as he murmurs. “it’s… not bad” you hum at his answer, turning your head to watch the movie as you giggle. “whatever you say, rinnie, whatever you say.” 

work belongs to @/zeisarin 2024 don’t copy, steal, or repost without permission

[evilminji]

OKAY, FIRST? Like the Picture Says...

So!

Here I was, sittin', thinkin', pondering my thoughts. Thing to myself? "How could one? Presumably female, much like myself, Jedi repopul-" and THAT is when my brain, worn and weary, from years of The Internet? SLAMMED its fucking pint down on the bar counter, turned to me with an ugly scowl and sneered?

"You KNOW fucking how. Don't be coy."

( O.O) w-well alright then, brain. Little aggressive. Kinda wondering where you got the knife. I... I'ma just... go... *pint glass is thrown after me, shattering on the door as it just barely misses*

So! Yeah. Birth, probably. But STILL! That's like? Still ONE(1) fuckin Jedi right? And even IF Mr. "I am literally half midi-chlorians by blood" sired two Force Sensitives on his first go? That's no guarantee EVERYONE does?

Unless..... >.> we are taking into account a Force Sensitive RACE. THEN? Oh, THEN? It's not a matter of IF, but HOW MUCH. Enough to hit that arbitrary cut off point? What if you don't care? What if you say "everybody can be a Jedi"? Want to TRUELY spread the Light. Not just to those who are STRONG enough... but to EVERYONE.

There are a few races like that! But! That STILL? Doesn't solve the Puzzle! The Problem! Of how could One(1) VERY determined Jedi lady, who? Presumably is pretty cool with motherhood. Rebuild The Jedi Order, by NOPING™ out before Order 66.

Again, presumably AFTER taking on the role of Creche Master. And AFTER taking all the youngling on a Super Fun Unplanned Don't Tell The Other Grown Ups Suprise Feild Trip~☆ (yaaaaay!)(who wants snacks! Everybody got their travel bags and buddies? Let's gooooo~☆!)

Cause like? Still need a stable population. And enough Jedi to *obscene gestures multiculturally* at the Sith.

My? Proposal? We turn to the Wisdom of the Monster Fuckers. (Wait wait WAIT! Don't leave! HEAR ME OUT!) I KNOW this sounds like a sex thing! Not a sex thing! It's a "Who said Humanoid Meant Live Birth? Were fucking Aliens, Bro" thing! Just because? Our SI-OC? Was reborn AS a vaguely human shaped sentient?

DOESNT MEAN SHE'S A MAMMAL.

That weird hair color could mark her as some WEIRD, man! Fuck, for all we know she could be a fungus! It's vaguely body horror! You get over it! Adapt to new biology!

Learn?? You lay CLUTCHS. Fuckin EGGS. All baby making is external after the first bit. Something, something, easier to defend against predators. SI-OC doesn't remember that part. There was this high pitched ringing in her head then a thump. She was on the floor. May have fainted. What're you, a cop?

They offer her weird alien birth control.

She takes the birth control.

Learns she is a Rare and Near Extinct Species, a la Master Mundi. Learns it's VERY detrimental to her health to lay clutches. Takes a lot of resources, she can't LEAVE it, so with out a partner or community (or sufficient hoard of food) she WILL starve to death. It HAS happened.

No, seriously, look Mafame Che in the eyes. It HAS happened. And no you CAN'T "push your impulses into the Force". It's a biological imperative. Your body physically won't LET you.

Exactly three options. Babies born, they die, or YOU DIE.

......little intense. Got it. Yes she would like that birth control. She will continue to be both average and forgettable. Pay no attention to the Jedi Creche Master In Training! Oh look! It's kenobi! *yeets fellow jedi under the speeder*

Take some.... research trips >.> <.< >.> which is of course totally not scouting out new Temple locations! To the Wild Zone. Mmmmm, no one for WEEKS by hyperdrive! It's so calm out here!

Only took, like, 278 different planets scouted! To find the right one.

*starts building dwellings.* *starts directing "too old" Force Sensitives or Families that want to stay together and are willing to move, towards the location.*

New secret Jedi planet? Whaaaaat? Nooooooo. That would be illegal. Jedi can't break RULES! Don't be silly. Oh? Is that Skywalker? *same Speeder, new jedi. YEET!*

But WAIT! The War Approachth! D:> upsetting. Better get ready to give that "we totally need to Hide The Babies For War Reasons" presentation she has prepared. But FIRST?

A clutch. Got a transport pod ready to go. Got food stockpiled. Got the birth control out. Now? Just need a male! Too uh... contribute.

.......look, she wants her legion of tiny jedi babies okay? They glow like STARS. Everything is BETTER with them around. And she's kinda come around to this whole... disgusting slime... goo... Thing™. Cause I mean? At LEAST it's not pushing one OUT! ( o7 Padme, you have her respect. But also you are a madwoman.)

The Healers, are of course, FROTHING at the mouth.

YOU DUMB MOTHER FUCKER. They hiss, like healing and very concerned paragons of needle weilding fury. Where the FUCK are you going to just? GET?? A male of you INCREDIBLY RARE AS FUCK Species? You damn near dead and no longer existent species??!? You have DELIBERATELY put yourself in EXTREME medical distress! For WHAT?! Did you HAVE a plan!?

Yeah. :3 I call it Pulling a Yoda's Linage *Yoda ears move from Concern, to Intrigued*

*click*

..........what was that. Jedi SI-OC, What Was That?? *comms start blowing up* What did you just DO?

Oh :3c simple. She asked. It's the only polite thing to DO after all. She DOES need assistance. Surely someone would be willing to offer. If they can. How? You may ask?? Why look so CONCERNED Councilors! She simply assumed, that? Since there is no way of KNOWING where in the Galaxy surviving members of her Race are? And time IS of the essence? She SHOULD reach as wide an audience as she can, as FAST as she can... RIGHT?

>:3c so, of course, she posted her request to the Holonet.

Video and all.

"Grettings, I am Jedi SI-OC. I am an [race] and currently a Creche Master here at the Jedi Temple of Coruscant. I require the assistance of a healthy, willing Male of my species, as I have laid a clutch. And wish to have it fertilized. I would like to have children. We would, of course, discuss co parenting the children before beginning. I have, attached, further details. Thank you for your time. May the Force be with you"

Sexiest shit a LOT of people for egg laying races have seen in years. Well... those with Very Specific Jedi Kinks. Of course, no one ADMITS to jedi kinks. But like... you've thought about it. Don't lie. Everyone's thought about it. It's them and the Mandalorians.*commiserating noises*

But like? The NEWS CYCLE.

Holy SHIT.

Yeah, yeah, tensions and possible succession from the Republic. Sith plots in the background. But? *new casters violently clear their planned segments for THIS* JEDI? Horny on main!? Is THIS ALLOWED? IS this horny? What race is that? C-can other people volunteer? And if so, who? We take to the streets! Sir, what's your opinion on-?

OUTTA MY WAY, I'MMA BANG A JEDI! *frenzied mob like behavior*

*temple guards, unnamused.* back! BACK! Horny jail! For ALL OF YOU!

Just?? It's? So, SO? Important to me? That their are Mandalorian [race] that show up. Because the need to repopulate their people is more important then *scrunch nose* Jedi(ew). That it becomes the Galaxy's hottest Bachelorette show. WHO? Amongst these Fine And Acomplished Men? Will the Jedi CHOOSE? To have babies with! They ask.

And, presumably, marry and learn the power of family and friendship and emotions and be HEALED by LOVE etc etc.

There are shipping charts. It's horrifying. The talk shows LOVE it.

Council? Day drinking. Except for Mundi. He's just like "....but did you HAVE to you they Holonet? It's so MESSY >:/ everyone's in our BUSINESS now." Cause he's not a hypocrite. Grumpy asshole? Absolutely. But not a hypocrite.

Just? The single most "....who?" Jedi ever. Causing the BIGGEST fuss. Right at the worst possible moment, for Sidious. Causing an explosion of glee and hope and laughter etc, all across the Galaxy. Good feeling towards the Jedi. EVERYBODY talking about them. There's gonna be HUNDREDS more!

If she does this AGAIN (in a decade. Madame Che was NOT joking on the stress it puts on the body) there could be thousands new Jedi over the coming years! (Probably why the Sith fuckin wiped them OUT, not that she thinks about it. Fuckers. Who's laughing NOW?! Huh? WHO LAUGHING NOW?!)

Again! Very, unspeakably Ace. Not a sex thing. I just think I'd be funny? That the Forces answer to The Evil Sith plan was... Babies™.

What are we? Fuckin YODA?

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @hypewinter @mayfay

[millidew]

its been almost 6 years since kaito and ouma have infested me. here's me talking out of my ass for over 2k words

to love the ouma-kaito dynamic is to love the themes of v3. to see one of them as 100% correct and the other as 100% wrong is to hate the themes of v3.

there must be balance. which is one of the themes!

at first, they each represent one end of their spectrums: lies, distrust, and logic VS truth, trust, and emotion. but it's not all black and white— they're far more similar than they think

to get the obvious visual foiling out of the way: short vs tall, scrawny vs muscular, pale vs tan (relatively...), round eyes vs sharp eyes, cool purple vs warm purple, black and white vs a colorful galaxy, and a tight "straitjacket" vs what's basically loose pjs

they're visual opposites, but they're also both purple, charismatic leaders, would rather die than their let go of their respective roles of hero and villain, and both want to end the killing game. they're also both SO dramatic. they cannot be separated.

all this is to say that they're the same, just taking different approaches (i mean, just compare their early FTEs. what are you two FUCKING talking about. your ass is NOT a pirate kaito shut up). ouma hides drops of truth within his lies and lives to poke holes in others' poorly concealed lies. kaito talks about being honest, but is also constantly lying to himself and others. and it's so fitting for them to essentially die with each other.

lying your way to the truth, and 10 other tricks to surviving a killing game:

v3 is a game that asks: who are you? why are you even alive? what parts of you are really "you"?

in other words: what is true and what is a lie? does it matter?

the flashback lights are all lies. tsumugi can literally rewrite their "truth" as she wishes. and of course, there's the fact that they're all fictional characters come to life.

and there's the big lie of ch1, brought back in ch6. although this is less relevant to me, personally, because kaede fully intended and did try her damnedest to kill so either way she's still at fault soo

the theme of the survivors is that they all have a reason to fight to live even if the world is hell, because they're pushed forward by the connections they made— kaede's encouragements, the training with kaito that led to shuichi and maki's happiness, and himiko's memories of tenko and angie. even though maki loses kaito, because she had those good times with him that led to her change in self-worth, she'll be okay in the end. she's not enforcing her own loneliness anymore.

basically, "maybe the real reason to live is the friends we made along the way"

shuichi explicitly says that his feelings are true, even if they're born of lies. to lie, there has to be a truth. to be truthful, you can't lie. yin yang and all that

it's even shown with the game mechanic of perjury. kaede and shuichi can literally lie for the sake of finding the truth

he rejects being forced to choose between "hope" and "despair," breaking the cycle. it's pretty easy to apply this to the other dichotomies in v3: truth vs lies, trust vs distrust, logic vs emotion. even heroes vs villains.

ultimately, i think v3 aligns more closely with kaito's ideology, because of course truth and trust is a good thing....!, but not without poking massive holes in it too. because kaito's a prideful hypocrite and the game does NOT let you forget it <3 more on that later

little white lies AKA ouma is sick of your shit part 1:

"is the truth worth it? aren't feel-good white lies ok? what even is a lie?" ouma asks with his little hater heart. (ch1 and ch4)

here, we see ouma questioning the individual nature of common sense ("gut instinct", if you will)— how can kaede decide if his talent is a lie? what is a lie? if ouma is 99% lies by weight, what is ouma??? an annoying grape??

we all want the truth, right? but the truth can be ugly. that's what ouma's always showing.

this is something shuichi also tackles with his feelings on his own talent. by exposing the truth, he causes pain to others. but this isn't about him, so you'll just have to keep that in mind

in the death road to despair in ch1, it's kaede's optimism that causes misery to the rest of her classmates. they're lying to themselves when they try to do it over and over. again, ouma calls her out on it, pissing off kaito who supports kaede 100%. the idea they can all get out and become friends is…also really unlikely. and even with kaede's murder "for the greater good", ouma disparages her for doing it in the first place: she lost the moment she seriously considered the thought, and played right into monokuma's bloodthirsty lil' paws.

right after the ch3 execution, himiko still refuses to let herself feel… until ouma calls her out on it. stop lying to yourself. and they all let it out, crying together. it's a good thing, and spurs on himiko's arc to be more true to herself. you did a good thing, ouma. now onto ch4! yay!

the "truth of the outside world", and ch4 as a whole, is probably the most in your face way of showing this. but more on that later.

the boys are back:

if you want a good relationship with someone, vulnerability is key, one that ouma unfortunately can't replace with a lockpick. you have to be honest. maki and shuichi were honest to kaito, which let him help them out.

ouma is definitely not vulnerable, up until the very end. ouma's distrust of everyone pushes them away, leaving him alone— without the "reason to fight to live" the others have— living out of spite and determination, until he dies for that too. like maki, he reinforces his own loneliness, but unlike her, he never makes those connections that make him change into a more well-rounded person.

kaito's better than him, which is a really low bar, but the game goes out of its way to tell you that he's still hiding secrets and adamantly refuses to let down his hero persona, harming both himself and those around him. you are COUGHING UP BLOOD, you are NOT okay. while his sidekicks still know something is wrong, he refuses to truly let them in, instead just brushing them off.

and that pisses ouma off. at the very least, ouma's honest about being a liar. kaito, in his eyes, is a coward. (not only that, people still like him despite being a liar..... but that's probably more to do with kaito being way less of a dick).

ouma, in kaito's eyes, is also a coward. he can call ouma a two-faced coward as much as he wants, but pot, meet kettle

chapter 4 AKA ouma is sick of your shit part 2:

ok. seriously onto ch4 this time. it's the perfect set up to the insanity of ch5. the tension is insane. also, ouma does not shut up about kaito having a crush on him. ok man.

from now on, it's the kaito & ouma show, the truth & trust & hope & emotion & hero VS lies & distrust & despair & logic & villain show.

and the game puts kaito, and all his themes, in the wrong. poor gonta and shuichi are just along for the ride

the stubborn belief that worked so well for maki in ch2 makes kaito refuse to believe, despite the evidence pointing to it, that gonta is the blackened, endangering everyone. and this is the cause of kaito and shuichi's rift which ouma takes great pleasure in. i'm sure this greatly validates his own distrust and loneliness, seeing it as the superior option

kaito's a liar, shuichi's a liar, and gonta is...not a liar but still technically wrong. YOU'RE ALL LIARS AND KAITO/SHUICHI STANS. YOUR FAVE IS PROBLEMATIC. OUMA'S FUCKING PISSED

it's the hypocrisy that gets to him the most imo

does he know?

anyways, it's a great showdown between their two ideologies. up until now, i'd say the score was roughly 3:1 in kaito's favor, but now it's definitely more even. it even features ouma punching kaito instead of the other way around like last time: something made possible imo because of kaito's sickness, which ouma forces him and everyone to acknowledge by doing this

this is a massive L for the hero side.... can the sidekicks clutch this victory and save the princess?

(interestingly enough, note that kaito doesn't even seem to hate ouma after all that. at the start of ch5, he puts ouma and gonta in the same category as having snapped under the pressure due to monokuma. his feelings, of course, change later on.)

...

are you sure about that

yeah, the truth sucks sometimes, huh?

what now?

chapter 5 AKA the boys are back 2 AKA voyage without passion or purpose AKA the sickest chapter name ever

ch5 combines ouma and kaito's ideologies through their swansong, their magnum opus, their collective theatre kid dream

the hangar man. THE HANGAR. no more cameras. no more prying eyes. no more heroes. no more villains. NO PASSION (KAITO). NO PURPOSE (OUMA). WHAT'S THE POINT. IT ALL BLURS (probably because of the blood loss)

think about it this way: kaito is literally dying, hypocritically refusing to let his friends in. ouma is metaphorically dying, because he lacks the "reason to fight to survive" everyone else has, because he has no trust, no friends, no bitches... anyways

(also the poison, which is. you know. is also literally killing him but shush)

the closest he had was, imo, miu for a little, then kaito in ch5. but in the end, it's all spite, not connection, that drives him. ouma kills himself to prove a point, and they both die as a middle finger to the mastermind— a hollow victory, in many ways.

think about kaito sitting alone in the exisal, hacking his lungs out in the metallic silence of the belly of the beast, having just learned one of the truths behind ouma's act, then killing him, then having to lie to all your friends for the hope that ouma's final, crazy plan works out. he's finally stooped to ouma's level. he's so used to the smell of blood by now. does ouma's blood on his hands look any different from his own?

even kaito's motto: "the impossible is possible! all you gotta do it make it so!" is pretty much an admittance. you can make a lie (impossible) the truth (possible).

also ouma bleeding out looking like shit laying in kaito's galactic coat like a cape. kaito squeezing his eyes shut before before pressing the buttons. these images changed lives.

the lying truthersssss...working together!!! to literally pretend to be each other!!! to blur into one being!! trusting each other to see it through for their shared goal!! at first glance, maki thinks it's her fault— that ouma manipulated kaito using her, but kaito disagrees, saying it was for the sake of ending the killing game.

this is all to hammer home the idea that we shouldn't see them as "hero" or "villain." the cast sees them as it first, but of course, we know that's not so simple by the time kaito steps out of the exisal.

in the end, they fail, but kaito puts his and ouma's dreams in their hands. they can do it better this time.

plus, kaito finally stops lying to himself and others about being a liar, the thing ouma gave him endless shit for. it only took him 5 chapters

is it wrong to call "that was a lie" ouma's catchphrase?

i still can't believe maki believed him. love makes you stupid i guess

extra thoughts:

you might be wondering why i call him "ouma" and not "kokichi." i do the same with some other characters: kirigiri, togami (though i switch between that and byakuya nowadays), and komaeda. it's because i don't know them like that. we are NOT friends. "kirigiri" is out of respect however

don't you think ouma has his own "sidekicks," his "villain lackeys," if you will, in DICE?

kaito's execution music should've had the "reach for the stars" line from sdr2 and i'm still mad about it

and they should've both in that exisal idc

kaito somehow exited that exisal with a new jacket. it's my headcanon that, in respect of a fellow theatre kid, ouma stole a second jacket from kaito's room and put it in the exisal

VR au post game low(high)key codependent oumota is everything and i'll happily read 1000 fics about it

also just outside of the Themes of it all, and tbh my main draw to this duo... they're so funny. they are SO. FUNNY. THEY'RE SO GOOFY TOGETHER. STOP TRYING TO ONE UP EACH OTHER

they should run around and beat each other with toy hammers. it's enrichment.

this isn't like thematically relevant but their love hotel events really show how well they could work together. they want a rival to pump them up and fight back so bad!! they'd have the craziest vigilante beef

WHY IS THIS 2.1K WORDS/???!> i am so weak to rivals man

tldr: look at this meme.

tldr 2.0: a true kaito fan is also a true ouma fan and vice versa. you may not like it, but they're two peas in a pod. don't worry though, they're not happy about it either.

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — normal girl.

l/n y/n, first year high school.

WARNINGS ; misogyny, classism, multiple one-sided relationships, mentions of death threats, mentions of toxic fandoms, hints of imposter syndrome, sexual innuendos, sexualization, objectification, incel behaviour, slut shaming (5.4k)

l/n y/n was born a pretty baby.

her family members - cousins, aunties, uncles, grandparents - gathered around her medical crib hours after she was born, basking in her beauty.

to the l/n's, y/n was a sight to behold. her small smile and her soft cooing ignited a fire within them, one that urged them to pamper the newborn with as much love they could muster.

it was safe to say that y/n was always surrounded with love, a plethora of it.

there wasn't a single time in her childhood that she didn't feel love.

y/n loved her parents, just as much, if not more, than they love her.

they did everything that they could to make her happy and healthy, enrolling her in whatever she wanted at the time. whether that be her attending hanlim (which they could barely afford) or a simple latte at the nearest café, the l/n's first priority was their daughter.

y/n knew that she wasn't as well off as the other kids in her school. her parents were decently well off but not enough to put them in the upper tax bracket that many of seoul seemed to be in, or at least pretended to. she had nice clothes, not designer, but just enough to not be bullied by her peers. her house was a fair bit away from the more booming areas of the city; a cozy, two bedroom house an hour away from gangnam.

she was content, making sure to never take her things for granted, always making sure her clothes were neat, her shoes were clean, and helping out with the chores as much as she could.

y/n didn't need much. she didn't want much, actually. as long as her parents were there with her, she was happy.

y/n just wanted to be happy.

she knew she was pretty.

being pampered all her life does a few things to her ego, but even then, it was only her family members telling her. there was only so much you hear from your family until it started sounding like each compliment was because you were family. y/n had a slight ego, sure, but didn't have a big head. she knew she didn't hold the attention of the general public that her parents were so sure she held.

at least, she didn't think so.

"i've liked you for so long!"

y/n stared at the note in his hands, the upperclassman's hands trembling. she couldn't understand why he was so nervous. they had hung out a few times beforehand, surely he wasn't actually in love with her.

y/n was only thirteen, and this guy - han hyeongjun - had spoken to her less than ten times her entire life.

as his hands continued to shake, y/n gently pushed his arms down, giving a soft smile.

he was in no means ugly. a lot of girls would die for a chance with him, both older and younger that y/n herself. hyeongjun was nice, even funny at times when y/n had spoken to him.

y/n simply didn't know him enough, and currently, her priorities weren't dating.

"i'm sorry..." y/n watched as his face fell apart, hyeongjun's eyes wide with hurt and shock. "i'm not looking for a boyfriend right now."

"i'll wait!" his voice tore through her eardrums, a desperateness lying underneath his shaky breath. hyeongjun swallowed back what seemed to be tears. "please... give me a chance."

y/n frowned. was she hurting someone? she never wanted to hurt anyone.

"hyeongjun-oppa, i'm really not interested." she could feel herself wavering, her guilt slowly starting to outweigh her stance. "i'm sorry..."

hyeongjun crumpled the love letter in his hand, tears streaming down his face. he would never want to force the girl he liked into a relationship with him, even though he so desperately wanted to, even though it tore through him like a pain his fourteen year old self could barely comprehend.

"i understand." his tears poured violently, hyeongjun's head pounding from holding back sobs. "i just... really like you."

y/n knew she was pretty, but she didn't think she was pretty enough to cause someone pain, especially someone she barely met.

"i'm sor-"

he left without a word, bumping into the younger girl's shoulder, his face tear-stained and etched with pain.

why did it hurt y/n too?

it was a one off thing, y/n decided.

han hyeongjun was a sweet, soft hearted boy. it was most likely a crush that he had, and not the emotions he claimed them to be. even if it was, there was no way it could actually happen again.

especially not in hanlim, where idols and future actors wandered the halls, all wearing some kind of designer shoes and expensive makeup.

here, y/n was just another face, just like she always was, despite her parents' preaching.

"what's your name?"

y/n's head shot up, her eyes wide. the girl that stood before her was tall and pretty, her loafers polished as if it was spit shined. her hair was dark, her skin pale in comparison, and y/n could see the faint twinkling of her necklace.

she suddenly felt so out of place.

"me?"

"yeah, you." the girl sat beside her, a scoff threatening to escape from her pink stained lips. "i don't think i've seen you before. what's your last name?"

it was an odd question to ask, at least for y/n. she knew last names held a significance, but only the adults in her life bothered to ask, never people her age.

the girl's eyes bore into hers, as if anticipating her question, ready to jump at the chance to compare herself with y/n.

"it's l/n."

"l/n?" she rested her chin on her palm, gazing at the girl with a predatory gaze. y/n couldn't place what it was, but it felt familiar enough to make her feel uncomfortable. "i don't think i know any l/n's. are you from gangnam? seocho?"

y/n could feel her eyes bug out. gangnam? seocho? there was no way her parents could ever afford an apartment, much less rent in those areas.

"uh, no." y/n didn't know why, but she felt so cold all of a sudden. "i live in nowon."

the girl sat up, her interest piqued. there was something about her eyes that shifted.

"oh." she twirled her blonde hair (probably an idol trainee, y/n thought) in between her fingers, eyeing y/n with a curiosity that seemed less than innocent. "i see..."

she could feel her intentions, how her puppy-like eyes held more than innocence. y/n felt like a zoo animal, being observed from a close distance, and this girl, although outwardly sweet, had ravenous intentions.

the girl smiled kindly, throwing y/n off guard. "what do your parents do for a living?"

y/n blinked. maybe she was wrong.

"um..." y/n's parents made a good amount, more than the rest of her relatives. even her high school friends said that she was rich, at least in comparison to them. "my dad's an electrician and my mom's a factory worker."

there was a pause in the air, heavy and suffocating. y/n was sure she said something wrong, but she wasn't sure.

"well..." the girl leaned back, deciding not to attack the poor girl in front of her (for now), and y/n sighed a breath of fresh air. "at least you're pretty."

"oh." y/n was pretty sure it wasn't a complement, but she'd take what she can get, especially since she was the black sheep in a class full of freshly groomed ones. "thank you..."

the girl smiled, resting her hand on her chin, her long, expensive looking acrylic nails slightly digging into her cheek. y/n glances her nails, dull and plain.

"my name's shim hyewon, daughter of shim sin. y'know, the politician?"

"oh." y/n had no idea about the world of politics, much less their names. all she knew was that the girl in front of her must've been rich. "i'm l/n y/n..."

just l/n y/n.

shim hyewon led a life that y/n hadn't been used to.

her parents were busy people, working as much as they could to provide for y/n, and she couldn't be more grateful for them. she rarely saw them in the mornings, her dad having an early start to his day, and her mom usually coming home an hour after she already left for school.

her commute wasn't bad, longer than it was during high school, but that was a given. her place horribly far from hanlim. her ten minute walked turned into an hour commute (give or take a couple minutes it takes to actually walk to the station).

it was a pain, honestly, but this was what she wished for. y/n wasn't gonna let an inconvenience like this get in the way of dreams, not when her parents poured blood, sweat and tears into it.

still, y/n couldn't help but envy hyewon.

the girl had been nice to her these past couple months, and though y/n felt uncomfortable with her constant classist remarks, hyewon was sweet.

she'd wait for y/n at the entrance of the school, scrolling through the latest model of her phone (the case differing week to week, sometimes day to day), barely fatigued from the twenty minute drive with her chauffer.

she shouldn't feel jealous at the wealth, y/n was already rich with the love and support from her parents. she genuinely couldn't ask for more, but perhaps if she had just a little bit of that money...

"took you long enough."

y/n fiddled with her black blazer, shifting around. hyewon's eyes dropped to her legs for a brief moment, and once again, y/n felt like a prize to be won.

she didn't dwell on it longer, as hyewon's face shifted into an expression y/n was used to; amusement.

y/n cleared her throat, rubbing her knuckles. at times, standing face to face with her friend felt more like a job interview than two peers talking about class.

"how long were you waiting for?"

"five minutes." hyewon shrugged, standing up from her leaning position. "i thought you weren't gonna show today."

y/n woke up late, too busy studying for their history exam to sleep. she needed high grades, and there was no time to study, especially since she managed to book some auditions a week before the test.

luckily, she caught the train, but the trek up on the way to school was slower due to her drowsiness.

"i always show up to class."

the two began to walk to class, finally entering school grounds. y/n could already feel eyes on them, more specifically on her.

it was a common occurrence after her first month in school, and she found a lot of the students (mostly boys, but a girl here and there) stealing glances, some of which even handing her confession letters.

maybe they weren't used to people like her walking around, someone who was slightly less well off, and not acclimated to their tightknit social circles.

it didn't make her feel any better though.

"you shouldn't." hyewon sighed, taking in the shorter girl's side profile. "this place is boring."

hanlim wasn't boring, not to y/n. school was school, and although it was tough and monotonous, she was on the path of doing something she loved.

y/n loved the spotlight like it loved her, but sometimes, she wished that people saw her less like a trophy and more like a human being.

hyewon glanced at her as they entered the building, her eyes raking over her with an untold emotion.

she was never a patient person, and her father always scolded her for it. perhaps now was a good time to practice it. hyewon could already tell that y/n was going to be tough to crack.

reaching the room, y/n could feel the cold air on her sweat soaked back, and she couldn't wait to finally sit down. the train was packed earlier, and y/n's legs ached from standing up the entire ride. she needed a breather, sooner than later.

"hey."

oh.

"ew." hyewon scrunched up her nose before playing innocent. she looked up at the older guy, smiling with her teeth. "oops! sorry, sunbaenim. it slipped out before i realized."

jay chang.

two years y/n's senior, and son of some popular american singer that y/n couldn't remember the name of. all she knew was that girls quite literally fell for him with a simple smile, and that jay was nothing but persistant.

"it's a good thing i wasn't talking to you, then." his smile was charming, and y/n was nearly fooled by it the first time they spoke. "you look nice today, y/n."

she nodded slightly, not wanting to give him too much. "thank you, sunbaenim."

"still a no?"

hyewon rolled her eyes. "kinda obvious, don't you think?"

"what?" he smirked, dusting his shoulder. "eventually, she'll need someone like me to take care of her."

y/n didn't think she'd ever need anyone, especially someone as big headed as jay chang.

what she needed was her desk, and her seat cushion... and a cold glass of water.

"i can take care of her just fine."

"whatever." jay frowned. hyewon always seemed to get what she wanted, despite probably being the youngest in the school. everyone treated her like royalty, and it pissed him off, knowing how she truly was deep down. "besides, y/n can't expect me to hold back when she looks like that everyday."

she was no better than him.

"that's all for me, i'm guessing?"

y/n felt a firm grip around her midsection, hyewon's arm anchoring her body against hers. it felt as if she was being claimed in broad daylight, and y/n did everything in her power to push down the discomfort threatening to make itself known.

"yeah." hyewon looked up at jay. "we're leaving."

"it's just a joke!" jay put his hands up, smiling as if he did nothing wrong. "unless you wanna make it a reality, y/n-ah."

y/n shook her head, the unsettling feeling getting worse as jay continued to hover over them.

"c'mon, don't be like that." he teased softly, a hint of frustration underneath. "at the very least, go on a date with your oppa."

hyewon pushed him aside, slamming the classroom door in his face. everyday, it was the same thing; the boy showing up in front of the classroom, loud and annoying, only there to harass y/n.

it was funny, honestly, and hyewon didn't mind that it helped y/n get closer to her.

"you okay, y/n?"

"yeah." y/n pulled away from her, hyewon's arms falling from her side. the younger girl clenched her jaw. "are all the guys here like that?"

"no." she hummed as the two made their way to the lockers. hyewon glanced at y/n once more. "almost everyone here is like that."

y/n couldn't get the icky feeling off her.

she felt an item for auction.

"it makes me feel gross." y/n confided softly, the feeling never leaving her, even when it was just her and her friend talking.

hyewon paused, and y/n felt the air shift into a thick cloud, filled with something similar to smugness.

"do i make you feel gross, y/n?"

she didn't want to upset her only friend.

"no."

but that was the exact answer hyewon was looking for.

"good."

the seasons passed, and so did y/n history exam.

getting her score back wasn't the nerve wracking part.

her grades were what she expected, and although it wasn't enough to be the top of her class (because y/n wasn't gonna slave over a one hundred and go to night school and cram school), she was satisfied.

it was the auditions she was worried about, her very first (and if it went wrong, her very last). she had managed to get a callback a week ago, and like before, it all went smoothly.

until she got to the HYBE building, of course.

"mom?" y/n's feet hit the cold floor, the air conditioning blasting. both her parents must've been home. "dad?"

she wandered into the kitchen, some dishes piled up, and the table freshly wiped. on the stove was a pot of kimchi stew, her mom's favorite meal and her dad's go-to dish.

she trudged to the living room, excited at the signs of her parents finally being home. y/n knew it wasn't normal for a fifteen year old to want to hang out with her parents, but she didn't care.

y/n loved her parents.

she heard the tv and walked faster, stopping as she stood in front of her parents' view, laptop in hand.

"need something, baby?" her mom, l/n eunji, pulled away from her dad's arms, causing him to pout slightly. he was always so clingy. it was cute. "come here."

y/n raced to sit in between them, rushing to open her email.

"can i tell you something?"

"what is it?" her dad, l/n junsang, leaned over her shoulder, snooping like he usually did. "you have a boyfriend? girlfriend?"

y/n glanced at junsang, shaking her head at his over enthusiasm to her getting a girlfriend or boyfriend (which she knew deep down he detested the though of).

"what?" he shrugged. "when i was your age, girls were throwing themselves at me. boys, too."

eunji rolled her eyes. her husband never changed. "girls were running away from you, actually."

y/n, not minding their usual antics, sifted through her open tabs, closing at least eight of them (for her paper due next month).

"but you ran towards me." junsang scrunched his nose, the mole dead center wrinkling along with his skin.

eunji shook her head. after twenty years together, she assumed her husband's ego would deflate just a tad bit. somehow, it worsened when y/n was born, their young daughter resembling him in both her smile and her beauty marks.

"you were the only one who caught my attention, though." he confessed like he always did, declaring his love on a random afternoon. "i could never say no to you and your pretty eyes."

y/n could gag, but it was nice to see her parents in love, even if it made her cringe.

"um..." she shifted the attention to her, hovering over the sketchy email she got. "are you guys done flirting?"

"sorry, baby." eunji looked at her daughter, her cat-like eyes gleaming. "what's up?"

"so..." the email in front of y/n made her heart beat out of her chest. "i had a callback, right?"

"yeah...?"

"i just got the email." y/n whispered. she knew it was her first audition, and there were much prettier and more talented girls that were at the audition, but she couldn't help but hope. "i was hoping to open it with you?"

junsang smiled. he was always so grateful that his daughter was open to sharing her achievements with him and his wife. being so involved in her life, regardless of its gravity, made him happy.

all he ever wanted, ever since he was young, was to watch his kid blossom.

the two older l/n's leaned closer, watching as their daughter opened the message.

y/n's eyes widened, reading the words over and over again, but she could only focus on one thing.

We look forward to working with you in the next coming weeks.

she got it? her first audition, and she got it?

y/n didn't know how to feel, a mix of gratitude and guilt coursing through her. it didn't seem fair to the others, the ones who strived for months, years.

"i knew it." junsang puffed out his chest. "no way can they deny our baby's pretty face."

her pretty face.

was that the only reason she got in? did they chose her for her face, just like everyone did in hanlim? her hardwork was glazed over, the spotlight on her features instead of her feats.

eunji flicked her husband's ear, her head lowering to meet her daughter's gaze.

"obviously, it's not just your face, y/n." her daughter was talented, and sometimes, she needed a reminder, just like everyone in her position would. "your dad and i know how talented you are. he just likes to say your face is pretty because people say you look like him."

"what?" junsang frowned. "am i not pretty?"

"junsang."

"you're very talented." he smiled, ruffling y/n's hair. "and smart too. all of which you got from m-"

"junsang."

"anyway," he waved his wife off, looking at his daughter. "you deserve it. you've worked so hard for it, and we're so proud of you. not only do we have a good daughter, but a talented one."

her parents were always her anchor, but sometimes she wished that she had the friend groups in the shows she had watched.

y/n wanted to belong both in her home and in society, where people saw passed her face.

"thank you." she whispered, earning a kiss on her temple from her mom. "i love you both."

"we love you too." eunji rubbed her back. "and don't listen to your dad about the boyfriend thing. i was the one that was getting hit on."

junsang paused, a frown suddenly on his face.

"you were?" his eyes landed on his wife, y/n deciding that now was a good time to hop off the couch and let her father and mother sort this one out. "wait, why didn't i know about this?"

eunji shrugged, standing up.

"i never told you."

eunji followed her daughter, not to her room, but to the end of the hall, her and her husband's door wide open.

"wait, what?" junsang heard y/n's door click shut, rushing to his feet to chase after his wife. "eunji, what?"

y/n met bts.

no, she worked with them, staring in multiple of their music videos, more than she expected to feature in (all at the cost of privating her social media accounts for a while. her success came with death threats, as expected).

it did wonders to her popularity in the industry, and she was amazed at how much more her peers both avoided and fawned over her. y/n always thought that it couldn't get much worse, but it did.

hyewon seemed to hover over her, watching as her locker was filled with threats from some of the older girls in hanlim. mixed into the pile were confessions, a few of which came from different schools. how they got in her locker, y/n would never know.

all she knew was that the attention was immense.

somehow, she avoided it today, waiting a couple minutes after the class president left to get cleaning supplies. there were a fair amount of students still in the class, but y/n knew they were all respectful enough to not but her.

she dusted herself off, walking outside the room and down the staircase. hyewon was somewhere nearby, either the roof where she usually sat (smelling like smoke) or in the girl's washroom close to the entrance.

"so..." jay? he never stayed after school, even if clubs were going on. "you can do a video with some older men but not go on a date with me?"

y/n's blood ran cold.

"sunbaenim." trying to not show her nerves, she lowered her head slightly, hoping that the sign of respect was enough for him to cool down.

it wasn't.

"do you like older men?" his arms crossed, his usually ironed blazer now wrinkling in his grip. "am i not old enough for you?"

y/n didn't like older men, she didn't even consider older anyone at all. she didn't wanna focus on that stuff, her sights on her dream university unwavering.

"i just don't want a boyfriend." her voice, soft and soothing, was strong with honesty.

"why not?" jay shot up, his dark eyes hard against y/n's features. "all girls want a boyfriend. you know i'll be good to you. i won't even force you to do anything."

y/n was sure his words meant to be reassuring, but it made her feel worse if anything, now knowing that jay saw her more like a toy than a human.

"i'm really not interested." she felt her voice go weaker, her legs frozen.

she wanted to leave, yet her legs stayed glued to the floor. there was a deep, unsettling feeling like her chest had been weighed down by something and she wasn't sure what.

"i don't believe you." the sinking feeling in y/n's chest was overwhelming. "don't tell me one of those bts oppas got to you first."

the staircase turned quiet, the soft whirling of the cooling units pushing through the vents. the green grass reflected the now setting sun through the window, birds chirping in the distance.

it should've been a beautiful day.

y/n felt a sense of shame she didn't understand. dirty and used, yet not even having her first kiss yet. she hadn't even held hands with anyone, yet somehow, everyone saw her as more.

she just wanted connection, love in both friendship and relationship.

jay was annoying, uncomfortable at times, but he wasn't cruel. she must've heard wrong. she had to have heard wrong.

y/n's voice came out in a soft squeak.

"i don't understand..."

she didn't, honestly.

she knew the industry came with it's consequences, but everything started even before then. it amplified, but it had always been like this in one way or another. she was always seen as something to get, something to possess, but never to connect with.

y/n was a want, but she was never a need.

"c'mon, y/n. quit playing dumb." jay was up to his wits end, and y/n could feel it in the air, a heavy smog filling her lungs. "there's another guy, isn't it?"

everyone assumed it was someone else, but it never was.

it was just her.

"are you playing hard to get or something?" his voice got louder, drowning out the birds and replacing it with a shroud of rage that concentrated around y/n. "you know how many girls would kill to have me tripping over them? and you're just here rejecting me over and over again?"

over the past few months, y/n learned to steel herself from the influx of confessions, always slightly in pain at the thought of breaking someone's heart.

it felt real, their 'love' for her.

but she knew this wasn't real, yet it hurt by the tenfold.

"it hurts, y'know." jay didn't seem hurt, and y/n was glad that his major was applied music and not broadcasting and entertainment. "you're not even giving me a chance. is it cause of the rumors you heard? are you that shallow? or are you just trying to hurt me?"

y/n didn't want to hurt anyone. she'd rather hurt herself.

"i didn't mean to-"

"but you did!" jay was fed up, nothing ever going his way. "do you like the attention or something? acting like a fucking tease all the time."

she could feel anger bursting through her chest, sick and tired of the names everyone threw her way. a thin veil frustration started to well up in her eyes, and behind, a seed of disappointment in others and in herself.

calming herself down, y/n spoke. "i don't understand why you keep calling me that."

"because you are!" jay whined, his eyebrows furrowing. y/n could basically see him stomping his foot. "you walk around with that face and expect me not to do anything."

a shiver ran through her spine.

"it's just my face..."

y/n didn't want to be seen as a trophy if it meant attracting attention like this.

did anyone even see her as human at this point?

"just shut up!" jay pushed his hair slick back, his voice echoing through the stairwell. "just fucking leave."

as if by his instructions, y/n's legs finally moved, her frame a blur as she rushed down to the main floor. she could feel her chest heaving, her eyes trained onto her feet. they carried her to the washroom, and she opened the door with a loud bang.

hyewon.

she was safe. her friend was here.

"woah," hyewon hummed, looking at y/n through the mirror. "you look crazy as fuck."

she felt crazy, her mind racing. she couldn't fathom how people saw her in that light, as if she was a medal incased in a collection of glory, plastered for the world to see.

"hyewon."

y/n rushed to her friend. she needed comfort, solace in the storm that happened mere minutes ago.

today should've been a good day.

"oh shit." hyewon pulled y/n in, her hands resting on her lower back. "hey... it's okay."

she could confide here, in between the porcelain walls, where she stood in the arms of someone she trusted. for once, she had someone to lean on, someone her age (or close to it) that listened.

y/n just wanted someone to listen.

"i don't understand why everyone thinks i want them or something." the emotions in her chest whirled with fervor, yet her voice was meek.

"i don't understand either." hyewon pull her closer, rubbing her back. "people here are fucked in the head."

y/n didn't want to believe that. she knew somewhere out there, there had to be people who were pure hearted, with pure intentions. somewhere, there were people who were just like her and her parents.

y/n wouldn't find them until after high school.

"i just wanted to make friends." she didn't mean to whine, but she was tired. "even the girls here think that i'm trying to do something. i can't even go near them without them thinking i'm trying to sabotage them."

hyewon pulled back slightly, looking at the shorter girl with vague intent. "i know you aren't, y/n."

"did i do something?" y/n was careful, never crossing the line of friendship (and most times, acquaintanceship) with anyone. she never wanted her words to be twisted, her actions perceived with an underlying meaning. "do i seem like the people they assume i am?"

she wanted to be seen for her, not for their ideals.

"no." hyewon brushed the tears off her cheek. "no, you're perfect."

"i just want people to understand." y/n was worried she'll never find anyone who cared enough about her. "i need someone to understand, or at least try. is that so much to ask for? for someone to actually care about me?"

"i know, baby." the taller girl whispered, y/n suddenly aware of how her breath hit her face. "i know."

y/n's first kiss happened on a beautiful day, in a porcelain school bathroom, the soft hum of the school's ac whirling through the vents, the sun setting through the windows.

(she always wished her first kiss happened with wonyoung, but wonyoung didn't need to know about this. y/n would rather die.)

she pulled back, bile threatening to release in her throat.

"i'm sorry"

"hey..." hyewon reached for her arm, and the predatory gaze was back. "it's okay."

it wasn't.

y/n rushed out, her legs carrying her as far from that school as they could. her lungs burned, her ears rang, and the humid air clung to her skin, refusing to release her.

sweat dripped down her back, tears poured from her eyes and betrayal suffocated her.

it hurt. everything hurt. the way jay's words stuck onto her like cheap perfume, and the actions of hyewon - of someone she knew she shouldn't have trusted - clawed into her.

she was battered, ripped to shreds, and never had she so desperately yearned for someone to hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay.

y/n wanted the comfort of a close friend, one she trusted with her gut. she wanted to hear the soothing words, the advice they'd give her. y/n longed for someone in her corner.

y/n just wanted to hear that it wasn't her fault.

(it wasn't, and it never was, and it never will be.)

(and two weeks later, y/n sported a new yellow blazer, assigned to a new seat and her commute lengthened to an extra thirty minutes.)

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taglist (CLOSED)!!

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[lizzybeeee]

The Lucanis vs Illario story would have had greater emotional depth/intrigue if the writers didn't water down how fucked up the Crows are as an organization.

Just some thoughts about how, out of all the side villains, Illario had some great potential to be a really interesting/tragic character in my opinion.

TL;DR: Zevran Aranai has a knife with Caterina's name on it for good reason and Lucanis/Illario need therapy...or whatever the Thedas equivalent is called...talking to Rook, I dunno

Going into DATV as a new player, or even as a returning one, the whitewashing of the Crows has a lot of the potential complexities of that life simply ignored or barely touched upon. The entire 'Illario vs Lucanis' boils down to: Illario seething in the shadows about Lucanis being the 'best boy'™ of the family while Illario is an after thought - which he is.

Let's be real, Illario is not subtle and immediately comes across as the Scar to Lucanis' 'Mufasa'. It's a questline with a very straightforward villain who has pretty lackluster motivations from what info we're provided - being 'I want power and to be the First Talon'. The game does very little explore what motivations he may have beyond being jealous of Lucanis/wanting more power.

However, if you play the quest line knowing what previous games have set up about the Crows - about how cutthroat and brutal the life is behind the glamour - then you can see that the entire Lucanis vs Illario conflict has amazing potential to be a dramatic tragedy.

We've seen how the life of Crow can affect Zevran - someone who was sold into the life through child-slavery. How interesting would it be to see how the life of a Crow can affect someone who was born into it? It's pretty clear in-game that Caterina intends for her grandchildren to carry on the family tradition - despite the fact that this 'family tradition' has likely led to the deaths of most of her grandchildren and however many children she had.

If there's banter about how Illario's/Lucanis' parents/cousins died specifically I haven't heard it, but the impression I got in-game was that it was likely linked to the Crows/politics in some way? Feel free to correct me! Still majorly fucked up that she pushes her grandsons into this life regardless!

Lucanis/Illario's situation was not like Zevran's - who was sold into the Crow's through slavery, with no one to speak up for him. Caterina was a woman who had power, who knew what the life of a Crow meant, and who still pushed those she 'loved' into it because is consolidated her place in the system. For all the Crows talk of 'family' Caterina doesn't seem to give a shit about them unless if they're contributing to the family business in some way - not to mention the whole 'you fail and we kill you' clause of being a Crow in the first place.

In the 'Wigmaker Job' from Tevinter Nights Lucanis talks about how Caterina hit him [also Illario] with her cane for mistakes and had him spend days without food/water. How he used to hate her but now 'realizes' that it was her way of ensuring he survived the life of being an Antivan Crow. Did it end up protecting them? It likely pushed them both to refine their skills out of fear. It's likely that simply by association with her they would be targets and thus needed to know how to take care of themselves and fight.

But why have him as a Crow in the first place? Why not simply train them well to defend themselves? You can't deny that she doesn't benefit from having her grandchildren in the family business - intentionally wanting Lucanis to take over her position as First Talon. The Antivan Crows are a force to be reckoned with and being one brings a whole lot of power in Antiva - being part of the elite of that group even more so.

If the game showed us the ugly reality of the Crows - the brutality of the lifestyle and how cutthroat the organization is, it could have really added some depth to Illario's betrayal - having it be more than "I want more power/respect" to "this is the result of what you taught me was valuable in life."

Warden: "Do you actually enjoy being an assassin?" Zevran: "And why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva. You are respected. You are feared. The authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at."

Illario, bitter about Caterina favoring Lucanis - resentful of the fact that she has already decided that Lucanis will be her successor, being offered power by the Venatori (at the expense of the Crows) and accepting because why not? How different is it from what the Crows do? Isn't power and status the whole point of working yourself up in the Crows? Getting into a relationship with Zara because why not? Isn't sex part of the allure of being a Crow? Why can't he have this? Why shouldn't he have this?

Rook: "When we met, it didn't seem like Illario and Caterina were close." Lucanis: "It was hard to be close to her. Even for me. And...I was her favorite."

Why would he have connections to his family? Why should he? Caterina certainly never seemed to value 'family' beyond what they could do for her and their family legacy. Most of his family is already dead, and of those that remain the only parental figure he has obviously favors Lucanis. We don't have a lot of evidence in-game to show that Illario ever really cared for Lucanis, but the prequel story 'The Wake' and Lucanis' own banter imply that they were practically brothers, best friends. Perhaps he did care and then ceased to at some point, perhaps he didn't at all, or perhaps he accepted that an early death for them both was inevitable like everyone else in their family. Dead now or later - what was the difference? At least if Illario sells him out now to the Venatori then he'll get something from it instead of another dead family member to bury.

It's the tragic result of raising a child in an environment where he was taught and experienced the need for self-preservation at all costs. Constantly threatened, punished, and made well aware of that fact that his life was an expendable commodity. Then, when things in the world went to shit he picked the only option that made sense to him. To save himself.

The irony of the potential fall of the Crows, the fall of House Dellamorte, coming at the hands of one of their own - not because he had a change of heart but because he was taught too well by them. The Crows view those that fail them as disposable, someone to be discarded - if the Crows fail Illario, what is to stop him from applying that mindset to them?

But this would require the writers to acknowledge how messed up the Crows are and we can't do that to our 'Noble Freedom Fighters'™. They'll also need to address Zevran's existence and what lore was established in past games...and we can't have that either lmao.

[cressidagrey]

Welcome to the World - Chapter 2

Summary:

The quickest turnaround time between finding your mate and having a kid anybody in the history of Prythian has ever managed

Warnings:

Rhys bashing, Mention of Domestic Violence, Mention of Miscarriage, Mention of Child Murder, Mention of Adult Murder, Mention of Stabbing, Childbirth, Labour, a disgruntled Donkey named Thistle

(super pretty dividers thanks to @saradika)

He heard the door open and his mother’s voice, in conversation with another woman…and then steps on the staircase and he knew that the midwife had arrived. 

Finally. Thankfully. 

Somebody that actually knew what they were doing, because Azriel for sure did not know what he was doing. 

And still, now there was a very different kind of anxiety running through her, because…because that meant that he would need to go, to leave her alone and to wait until the baby was born…and he knew all that could go wrong during a birth. 

Snapshots of Nyx’s birth were seared in his brain, rearing their dark, ugly heads when he only dared to think in that direction. 

Everything could go wrong. 

He lifted his hand to Ciara’s cheek, feeling the soft, warm skin underneath his gnarly fingertips…everything beautiful in the world was right there in front of him. He didn’t understand why the mother had thought it prudent to give her to him. Didn’t think that he had done anything in his fucking life to deserve her. 

He had bathed in the blood of the enemies, and Ciara had burst into tears at only the mention of killing, her whole body shaking. 

But he knew one thing. He knew that he was going to fucking slaughter anybody that would ever put a hand on her or her child. 

He leaned forward to press one single kiss against her forehead, feeling her soft hair…breathing in nutmeg and clementines. 

Even now, with the notes of pain and anxiety running through her scent, it was the best thing he had ever smelled. 

It was so…perfect. So utterly warm and comforting and perfect. 

“It will be fine,” he promised her, forcing down the anxiety he was feeling. He wasn’t quite sure who he wanted to assure, him or her…he said it nonetheless. 

She really had enough of her own to worry about. She didn’t need Azriel‘s fear to bleed all over their bond. So he needed to get a fucking grip on himself so it didn’t get any worse. 

Ciara nodded, holding his hand tighter, small nimble fingers interlaced with his own. He was surprised to find callouses on hers as well, though they were concentrated on the top of her fingers, the sides…he had seen them on his mother's hands, on Rhys’ mother's hands his whole life. 

Needles pushed through fabric, again and again…one glance at the blanket lying carefully folded in that little wooden cradle made him wonder if she had made that.

And then there was a knock at the door. It opened…Nora, the midwife, was a female his mother’s age, greying hair shorn short, carrying along with her a massive bag, and bundles of linens. 

“So it seems like we’ll have a baby tonight,” she said brightly and Ciara sighed as he stood and Nora entered the room, putting her bag on Ciara’s desk. 

“How are you feeling, Ciara? You can wait outside,” she dismissed him without a second glance and he let go of Ciara‘s hand to leave the room…to force himself to walk downstairs, even when he wanted nothing more than to stay. 

He wanted to stay, but she hadn’t asked that of him and he was not going to put her in a situation where she thought that she needed to agree. 

So he walked downstairs. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked his mother who was bustling around the kitchen, needing something to keep busy or the nervous energy under his skin would drive him insane. 

“No, not really. Towels are in the armoire…I’ll put water on near the fireplace in her room…If you could take care of the animals…” she trailed off. He inclined his head. “Don’t let Thistle bite you,” she warned him with a grin, though it didn’t make him laugh. 

“You are jittery,” his mother said quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his arms and he turned his hand so that he could hold hers. As always, she swallowed whenever she felt the scarred texture of his hands, even centuries later still giving herself the fault for what had happened to him.

He had never given her the fault. Not for one second. They had both been stuck in a horrible situation.

And what his half-brothers had done to him, was not his mother's fault. He had told her that…multiple times. And still, still she thought differently. 

Thought that because she was his mother she needed to protect him against everything and anything. 

And it didn’t matter what he did, he couldn’t change her opinion…she still gave herself the fault.

“The one and only birth I saw didn’t end particularly well,” he answered honestly. 

Nyx’s birth was seared into his brain. He just prayed fervently that Ciara would have an easier time than Feyre had. 

Granted, she was a full-blooded Illyrian, but she was built slight but tall…what if the baby became stuck while passing through her pelvis and…

There was no Nesta here that could give up half her powers in exchange for Ciara’s life and the life of her daughter. 

“She’ll be fine,” his mother promised him. He gave her a doubtful look. 

She couldn’t promise him that. Something could always go wrong…and he couldn’t lose her. Not when he just got her. 

He had waited 5 centuries for Ciara. 

 “Females give birth to babies all the time, Azriel,” his mother pointed out drily.

He knew that. Of course, he knew that. But still. 

“Granted it’s her… first,” his mother’s voice shook and not the first time he wondered if he had been…if he had been his mother's only pregnancy. Or had there been more…maybe girls that hadn’t even been allowed to take their first breath before his father had…he shoved these thoughts away because they would do nothing but make him furious. 

“At least the first full-term one…that often is the most difficult, but Nora has delivered hundreds of babies,” she assured him quietly. 

“What do you mean?” he asked immediately. Why was it the most difficult one? 

Was it riskier? Why? 

“Her body doesn’t know what to do yet,” his mother said calmly, her hand tightening around his. “Ciara’s anxiety has been for weeks, which doesn’t help…Scared of the unknown. She’ll be fine , Azriel,” she assured him again. 

“But…” the protest was on his tongue before he could even think about it properly.

“But nothing,“ his mother said drily. “She will be fine.” She looked out of the window and he saw the snowflakes slowly drifting to the ground outside. 

Afternoon had come and evening would be there in less than a few hours, the sky already darkening. “It’s a good night to be born.”

It was. Icy but peaceful. 

His mother went upstairs and Azriel forced himself to go out to the barn in the back garden…

With no small amount of apprehension for his first meeting with Thistle the donkey. 

It was better that he got out of the house, before…Before the labour started in the earnest. 

He blinked twice as he saw the barn, which looked much better than it had the last time he had visited. 

Thistle the donkey wasn’t the only animal his mother had acquired. Though it was definitely the one in the worst mood. 

If he had ever met an animal that seemed to match Amren in both size and general behaviour…Thistle it was. 

Thistle had no hesitant to kick or bite and even tried to go for his wings when he wasn’t quick enough to pour grain in her trough for her liking

The wings were definitely beneath the fucking line of dignity! 

He glared at Thistle when she finally stuck her head in her trough and munched her way through her dinner. 

Which left him with the rest of the animals to take care of. 

Two more Goats were also waiting for their dinner and apparently to be milked…he couldn’t say that he had much experience with that, though there was a horrible diagram drawn on the chalkboard hanging on the wall…together with written instructions on what to feed which animal, and clearly whoever had last milked the long-suffering goats it had put everything back into place. 

He wondered if it had been Ciara or his mother…if it had been Ciara who was clearly willing to pull her weight and to work hard, even as pregnant as she was. 

Still, when he finally had a bottle filled with goat milk and the poor goat ran away,  probably happy to not have him pull at her udder anymore…he had a newfound respect for farm work because Azriel clearly wasn’t talented at it…give him some rabbits to hunt any day. 

He moved on to the chickens, who were clearly not amused by the fact that there was somebody with bigger wings than them. They blustered while screaming at him because he wanted to steal their eggs.  While being pecked to hell and back, he still reached out for the mental tether he had to Rhys, shoving any thought of Ciara and the baby far, far away from himself. 

* Rhys ?*

* Is everything alright? * his brother’s mental touch appeared nearly immediately . * Cassian said you are in Rosehall ?*

*Can I have the rest of the week off?* Azriel asked, keeping his voice even. 

* Is everything alright ?* Rhys repeated . 

*I need to take care of my mother’s donkey. * It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the complete truth but he wasn’t ready…wasn’t ready to have this conversation yet. 

And especially not right now, when it felt like he was hanging on by a thread. 

*Her donkey.* Rhys repeated unbelieving and Azriel pushed a memory of Thistle biting at his wing at him. 

The laughter was immediate.

*Yes. And her chickens and her goats and whatever other poor creature she has apparently now saved,“ he said drily. He wondered if his mother still had a cat. She used to always have one, but he hadn’t yet come across a mouser.

*Is Esmeray alright?* Rhys asked him, worry edging his voice.

*Just busy. You know how she gets ,* he deflected. 

Also not a lie. Just not the whole truth. 

* Take a few days, Az.* Rhys agreed.

At least Rhys‘ bad conscience was good for some things .

***

“You’re in labour, child.” And with that, Nora took away any hope she had of a stay of execution.

Labour. Her daughter would be born soon, regardless of what Ciara wished. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hold her baby or that she wasn’t looking forward to meeting her, to see her growing up…

It wasn’t that she didn’t want love on her, didn’t want to press kisses to her little head and see if she looked like Ciara…see if her hair curled or her nose scrunched and…

But once she was born…Ciara couldn’t protect her anymore. As long as she was safely in Ciara’s womb, Ciara could pretend she could protect her. 

But…

 “Up you go,” Nora said easily, helping her sit up on the bed and then stand, Ciara grimacing in pain at the change of position. 

“Good. Walking will make the pain the most effective,” Nora told her calmly. 

Right. She had told her that before. 

Something to do with the pull to the earth, making it easier for the baby to drop into position…

Ciara’s hand wrapped around the wrought metal of the footboard of the bed, hissing in pain. Another one of those pains, coming like waves of the ocean to crash into the shore… or crashing into her. 

“How do females do this multiple times?” She asked weakly, as another one of these waves of pain crashed through her and then receded, giving her a moment to catch her breath. 

“You’ll forget it once you hold your baby,” Esmeray said gently. “Move your wings to the side, sweetheart, I’ll rub your back.”

She did, weakly twitching them to the side…hers weren’t clipped, but she was quite sure that she did not have enough strength in them to fly. She couldn’t remember ever having done it anyway…and she hadn’t been willing to try while pregnant. Too worried to crash to the ground and hurt her baby. 

Esmeray’s hands pressed over the base of her spine as the next contraction built and she moaned softly in relief. Better. Still painful but better. 

And so it began. 

She walked her circles in her room, returning to lean against the footboard or against the walls when another wave hit her, letting Esmeray and Nora gently ply her with water to drink and then whatever weird tea it was, sweetened with honey and herbs. 

“You’re doing well,” Nora promised her, even when it was felt like she was making no progress at all, as the sun sank behind the horizon and night reigned. 

It was maddening .

She felt herself grow seemingly insane with every new wave of pressure that seemed to grow and grow and grow with nowhere to go…her legs growing weaker until finally, another wave of pain forced her to her knees in front of her bed, panting with breath, her mouth opening into a silent scream…her hands fisting into the quilt she had made out of fabric scraps at the shop…

The pain peaked and she groaned as a rush of warmth ran down her thighs, soaking the clean blanket beneath her with clear fluid.

What…she didn’t even have time to think about it before another wave of pain crashed over her, leaving her gasping for air.

“Your water broke,” Esmeray said, sounding delighted, still rubbing her back. "She will be here soon, sweetheart." 

No. No, she wasn’t ready. She couldn’t do this. Ciara just wanted…

But she couldn’t even finish that thought, because there was more pain. 

“Could you fill the bathtub, Esmeray?” Nora asked quietly. 

What? No, she…

“What’s wrong?” She gasped out between more rolling waves of pain.

“Nothing is wrong, Ciara,” Nora soothed her. Something was wrong. Something…

“You didn’t think I would need the water because the baby isn’t that big,” Ciara whimpered. What had changed? Why did she…

“She’s not. It will help you,” Nora assured her. “You’ll have less pain and could heal quicker.”

She should be able to stand it. She should be able to…

She went back to rocking, breath coming hard gasps, trying to find something to hang onto…

“In the tub with you," Nora said calmly, helping her stand, her legs shaking. Esmeray came to her other side and somehow between the two of them, she made it to the bathing chamber, every step agony. 

She leaned on the side of the tub, “I can’t get in there,” she whispered weakly. 

“You can and you will,” Nora told her, accepting no argument.

Ciara didn’t know how she managed it, just knew that somehow she slid into the warm water and for a moment it was pure relief.  She could still feel every contraction, but with the water helping her be buoyant, they didn't seem to hurt her nearly as much. They weren’t quite so maddening.

Still, exhaustion took over as her head lolled against the warm porcelain of the tub. Something inside her belly twisted and the sudden feeling of nausea made her start to move her hands over her mouth. 

Nora immediately placed an empty bowl under her chin as she vomited. “That’s alright, Ciara,” she said soothingly, Esmeray gently running her hand through her hair, holding out of her face as she reached again. "Your body knows what to do. It's getting rid of the food so it can work harder.”

Harder? Everything seemed to be tipped in black, her eyes closed…the pressure mounted. 

She couldn’t do this.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” it left her mouth in a weak chant. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this. 

“Yes, you can,” Nora disagreed. “You’re doing so well.”

No, she wasn’t. She wasn’t. It didn’t feel…

She couldn’t do this. She was too exhausted and nothing made sense, and she wasn’t strong enough. Not strong enough to do this and…“If I die, can you get her out?” She whimpered. 

Just her. As long as her daughter could live, she would die. That would be fine. It would be fine. 

She would die if it meant her daughter would live. 

The smell of cedar was suddenly there, a broad hand gently, touching her face, cupping her cheek. 

“You are not going to die.” 

[whyse7vn]

MESSY -

[ot7 x reader]

LAYOVER OUT NOW!!

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

jin: guys i kinda feel like the tae hate train is so forced spent 24 hours with him and he’s not even that bad

y/n: pretty sure this is what people call stockholm syndrome. wishing you a speedy recovery 🙏🏽

tae: i could cry jin wow thank u for this 💜

jimin: savejin2023

namjoon: wow

hobi: i think i’m about to get jumped

yoongi: be safe

hobi: that does not help me at all

yoongi: never being nice again hope it hurts real bad and ur in hospital for 7 weeks

namjoon: why would people want to jump you?

hobi: idk namjoon let me turn around and ask them

fucking BITCH

i hate you

namjoon: ok then

y/n: where is ur security at??

hobi: toilet

y/n: yikes

gl !!!!!

tae: do you need me to come help?

you know i can get down and dirty

real dirty

jimin: tae stfu

someone record it

tae: say the word hoseok and i’ll be there

hobi: saying no words

tae: be like that then

jin you would let me save you right 🥺

jin: no

tae: wtf????

why not

jin: stop speaking to me

tae: I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS?

jin: i said you weren’t that bad not that we were friends

chill out

tae: I WILL NOT “CHILL OUT”

you fucking BITCH

jin: excuse me????

you better watch ur mouth

y/n: ladies that’s enough break it up!!

jin: he fucking started it ugly slut

tae: DID YOU GUYS HEAR THAT HE CALLED ME AN UGLY SLUT

AN

UGLY SLUT

HES CROSSED THE LINE

LET ME AT HIM

jin: COME AT ME THEN

jimin: he’s asking you to cum that’s crazy

yoongi: gross as hell

hobi: i was not jumped

yoongi: shame

hobi: shame?

yoongi: shame.

tae: i do not fuck with you like that jin what the hell

namjoon: where is jungkook?

jk: i’m busy

i just ate glass by accident

namjoon: you what

jk: pls leave me alone

i ate glass

y/n: he’s bleeding

jk: i ate glass

tae: something is telling me jungkook ate glass but idk

jk: i did just eat glass

tae: no way lol

jk: yes way

leave me me now

hobi: he ate glass?

jin: lol

jk: yes

bye now

jimin: is he like ok??

y/n: he’s bleeding i said this already

yoongi: how do you accidentally eat glass?

y/n: beats me

tae: JUNGKOOK BEATS YOU???

WITH GLASS?

y/n: what

jimin: anyways

can we find out what the fuck namjoon is training for

why is he always working out?

should i be prepared to the end of the world or something

what does he know that we don’t

y/n: think he’s just a slut tbh

namjoon: ?

jin: be honest namjoon

are you working for the government?

namjoon: technically we all work for the government

jimin: ur so annoying

yoongi: “technically we all work for the government” 🤓☝🏼

hobi: who is we????????

i know i don’t work for the government

i work for the people

y/n: right like tf is he on about?

tae: why has no one congratulated me

jin: are you pregnant?

jimin: congrats!! boy or girl??

tae: nvm

namjoon: btw i’m not having a party for my birthday this year

yoongi: thought ur birthday passed already?

namjoon: no?

hobi: what year were you born joon?

namjoon: 1994

tae: CRAZY

namjoon: we are 1 year apart?

tae: 1 year it’s a long time

y/n: you’re so old omg :( hope you don’t die soon

namjoon: i’m not old

jimin: see how jin and yoongi aren’t speaking rn

says a lot doesn’t it?

yoongi: maybe i don’t like you?

jimin: maybe ur old as hell?

jin: age shaming is real guys

i’m done fighting this battle

tae: age defeated you?

jin: don’t start with me again

y/n: he’ll ask you to cum again

jin: right

wait no wtf

I WILL NOt

hobi: ewww jin is so gross

jin: IM NOT

hobi: EWWWWWWWW

jin: STOP IM NOT PLS I SWEAR

jimin: i’m asking this not because i care but cuz it would be real funny if the answer was yes

did jungkook die??

yoongi: let’s pray

namjoon: are you friends with him now?

yoongi: LOL

i’m praying that he’s dead

y/n: be nice yoongi

yoongi: never :p

jk: raise ur hand if you also think the jungkook hate train is forced

jimin: *cuts off both hands*

tae: don’t think he died

yoongi: no shit

tae: i’ll raise my hand for you kook

jin: i take back my my opening statement

gf was right it was stockholm syndrome

jk: GF??????

yoongi: don’t call her that

y/n: told you

jin: thank god i’m cured now 🙏🏻

tae: all men do is lie…

y/n: real

tae: PICK A SIDE

y/n: FUCK YOU

tae: you about that freaky life lol??

we can if you want lol

😝😏😚

jk: you will be the next glass victim

tae: woah????

namjoon: jungkook how did you end up eating glass?

hobi: or did the glass end up eating you?

jk: lightbulb in my mouth

jimin: ??

jk: i put a lightbulb in my mouth

namjoon: why…

jk: leave me alone pls

yoongi: stupid

jk: ur stupid

jimin: i’m gonna kill myself in front of tae and jungkook to forever change their bond and the trajectory of their lives

tae: wtf

hobi: NO CUZ IF I WAS A CAT AND HAD 9 LIVES I WOULD USE ONE TO SHOOT MYSELF IN THE HEAD IN FRONT OF THEM

namjoon: okay!

jk: i don’t like that

jimin: that’s the point

tae: be honest i’ve been getting better like i’m better honestly like before i was a little bit gone but i’ve changed fr

jin: me trying to convince the nurse to let me out the psych ward

y/n: tae literally explained the whole omegaverse in detail to me yesterday

what about that screams better?

tae: ok so i wanted to share some knowledge with you i don’t see the issue..

namjoon: omegaverse?

y/n: DONT ASK QUESTIONS JOON IM BEGGING YOU DO NOT OH MY GOD

tae: i’ll tell you namjoon

i’ll share my knowledge

step into my office

namjoon: um

jimin: you do not have an office

hobi: lowkey olive oil and carrots taste good af

y/n: ew??

jin: gross

jk: not true it tastes like a tesla model x tyre

namjoon: that very specific

like VERY specific

jimin: jungkook why do you know what that tastes like?????

jk: i be in situations

yoongi: have you ever experienced serious head truma?

jk: i had a dream namjoon spiked me and ran my head over with a motorcycle once

namjoon: oh

y/n: my little vivid dreamer >3<

jk: hehehe yeah >3<

jimin: ur a 26 year old man

never fucking hehehe in this chat again

y/n: why can’t 26 year old men hehehe what is this discrimination???

hobi: born to hehehe forced to lol 😂

jk: i’m so upset now

jimin: good

tae: call me ben cuz all my bitches 10

y/n: what?

jin: 10?????

namjoon: ???

jk: ben

hobi: yikes

jimin: get the police on the phone

tae: WAIT

THAT DID NOT GO THE WAY I WANTED IT TO

yoongi: flop

tae: what if we all just started a yoongi hate train

what could be do to stop us

absolutely nothing

yoongi: what if i took a ss and sent that ben line to the police

jimin: he got you

y/n: crazy

tae: nvm lol

namjoon: jungkook don’t go on twitter

jk: DISPATCH SAYING Y/N AND SCOUPS ARE DATING

namjoon: too late

jk: THERE ARE PHOTOS OHMYGODIDJ

OHMYGO72&&3:&:&:&

OHMUSHEEINGODODSKSKDJDJJ

££&&&&@@@‘mmmm

HKEODH

WHY IS SHE KISSING HIM

OHBMY GIF

WHY IS SHE KISSING HIM

yoongi: wait what?

jin: no way they caught her like that

jk: IM GINNA PASS OUY OH MY GOF

jimin: didn’t that man just have surgery?

y/n leave that poor man alone!

tae: THIS IS FEMINISM

no i lied

nvm i don’t like this at all

i tried to be happy for you but i just can’t

what can he do that i can’t

hobi: rap idk

tae: hobi can you shut up pls

hobi: zipped it locked it and i’ve put it in my pocket

jk: TELL ME ITS FAKE TELL ME ITS FAKE OHMYGOD

yoongi: wow she really is kissing him in the picture

that’s insane

wow lmao

that’s crazy

y/n: it’s a kiss on the cheek?

jin: why the hell is he in a wheelchair

hobi: maybe her kiss made him weak in the knees

he’s so real for that

tae: YOU DID NOT ZIP IT YOU LIAR

hobi: 🤐

y/n: it was just after seungcheol left the hospital

after his surgery

jin: wow not the first name

that’s crazy

jk: OHMY HOD YOUVE KILLED ME

IM DEAD

HOW DOES IT FEEL TO KILL ME

IM GONE

y/n: ur still talking to us

you are in fact alive

jk: hello are you a friend of jungkook

this is his mother he’s dead

my baby is dead

jimin: how long have you guys been fucking??

y/n: i have not been fucking that man

yoongi: but you’ve been kissing him

y/n: ON THE CHEEK

this is NOT a big deal

like at all

namjoon: i agree

tae: i’ll slit your throat

namjoon: what

tae: i will cut your throat open

never agree with her again

jin: he lowkey a slut cuz how he let you kiss on him in open like that

sounds like a set up to me

he wanted the people to know

y/n: there is nothing to know

seungcheol is the bff

nothing more

jk: IM THE BFF

I AM THE BFF THATS SICK WHAT IS UR ISSUE

WE LIVE TOGETHER WHY IS HE THE BFF YOU SEE ME EVERY DAY NOT HIM

y/n: thought you were dead?

jk: hello this is mother jungkook was my son not ur bff??

jimin: mother jungkook?

tae: as ur bf i don’t agree with this kiss it was really crossing boundaries pls apologise and give me his address so we can talk man 2 man

y/n: shut up

tae: ok lol you want me so bad

namjoon: she literally did not say that at all

tae: if you want to keep ur throat together shut the HELL UP

yoongi: are you dating him?

y/n: no

hobi added seungcheol to the LAYOVER OUT NOW!!

jimin: NO WAY

hobi: whoops!!!!!!!

jin: THIS IS INSANEEE

namjoon: let’s not fight pls 😕

tae: YOU

seungcheol: Hello?

jk: omg he has auto caps on i’m gonna throw up

yoongi: back off

y/n: pls ignore them cheol and feel free to leave!!!!

jk: OH MY GOFD THE NICKNAME IM GONNA STABMYSELF OHMYGODIDJDKDNJFJFKFNFMFMCKFJFJFK

seungcheol: Should i be worried rn lol?

Also hi everyone ☺️

hobi: hiiiiiiiiiii

jimin: so ur y/n’s bff right?

seungcheol: Yup

tae: KILL YOURSELF

namjoon: he didn’t mean that

tae: I DID

namjoon: he didn’t honestly

yoongi: what’s ur address?

y/n: do not answer that

jin: did you see the dispatch photos?

seungcheol: I did i was about to call y/n

can’t believe they caught us like that 😭

jimin: wow today is a great day

yoongi: wdym caught?? you two aren’t even dating so they caught you guys doing nothing

like that was nothing

jk: 2&&2838;8;:7:&:&;&:&38293@:@.@:@@;9.&:&:&:&:&:&:&&.&:@/&2&3&3&:&:&,&:&:&:&&.&:&:&:&&:&:&:&:&:&:&:&:&:&&:&:,&;&&:&:&:.&&.&.&:&:&:&.&.&.&.&.&:&:&:&:&&..&£,’xjxxjjdjjxjsmnzjjdjdjzjsidiididiidicidididididsidjdjdjdjdjdjjdjdjdjdididididididjjxixididididididiidjdjdjdjxjdjdkmdkdkxkxkxkdkjjdxjjdjxjxjcjxjxjxjxjxjxjxjdjdjdjdjdjdjjxxjxjxjjxxjxkjxxjjdjjdjdjxjdjdjdjxjxjxjxjxjjxjxjsjdjxjxjjddjjdjdjxj

seungcheol: Is he ok?

namjoon: yes

jimin: no

tae: SCOUPS IS A SHIT STAGE NAME BTW

hobi: urs is literally the letter v

jin: is she a good kisser?

seungcheol: The best ☺️

y/n removed seungcheol from LAYOVER OUT NOW!!

y/n: THAT IS ENOUGH

tae: WHAT DID HE MEAN BY THAT

yoongi: add him back

jimin: MESSYY

jk: where to purchase gun

sorry this isn’t google

hobi: wow that was intense guys

y/n: never speak to me again hoseok

hobi: 🥺

ily

namjoon: i’m sure this will die down in a few days

tae: ur throat is not safe

namjoon: ???

are you trying to fuck me rn

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun(Full part)

Synopsis: The aftermath of 'Sun Eats Moon' in Satoru's perspective.

(Warnings: implied sex, forced relationships)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

***full version of pt 3 is on a03 and account restricted. in the process of censoring the fic so it can be posted on tumblr**

[authormars]

Body Types

Obviously, I cannot draw. I'll just be describing what got them to look like that and (if people want) I'll do the side characters next.

Lucifer

The eldest is first. His height is 6'5. He's the second tallest of all the brothers (only beaten by Beel) and near constantly wears heels so he's normally around 6'7.

Lucifer himself is very naturally beautiful. Like, the embodiment of perfection, mainly because of the Father making him the most perfect angel ever.

He's beautiful, and somewhat fit because Diavolo sometimes drags him with him when he works out. Lucifer himself has more of a gymnast body type (and has the flexibility to match) His muscles aren't as prominent, but he's physically strong. He's about the 3rd strongest of all the brothers (in his own way, of course. Not all strength is the same, but he's about the 3rd strongest)

Mammon

Mammon is one of the shorter brothers, being 6'0 (and a half!! So he says) He's on the shorter half of the brothers, only being taller than Belphie and Asmo.

Mammon isn't ugly, but he falls more on the handsome spectrum than Asmo on the pretty (or sexy) spectrum or Lucifer on the perfection itself spectrum. He's handsome and we love him.

Mammon is a very fast demon and is always a top runner on the track team or basically any sport like that. So Mammon has a runner build. Thick thighs save lives, ya know? Mammon is the 2nd strongest of the family.

Leviathan

Levi is very close in height to Mammon. He's middle ground among his brothers. Levi is 6'1, sandwiched right between the tall ones and the small ones.

Levi falls on the pretty spectrum like Asmo, though not as high on it as Asmo. He's a gamer boy, but Asmo forces all of his brothers to have a skincare routine, so he looks good.

Levi may be pretty, but he is not fit. Once again, he's a gamer boy and an anime nerd who barely leaves his room. He's scrawny and barely works out (besides maybe a game like beat saber) Probably one of the weakest brothers, maybe only beats Belphie

Satan

Ah, Satan. The cat boy, furry, literally every childhood best friend love interest in every romance novel. He's among the taller three brothers. He is 6'3 (and a half) and hates that Lucifer is taller than him.

Satan also falls on the pretty spectrum, but also the handsome spectrum. He's very cute, but also sort of average at the same time. (Don't question it okay)

Satan is on the Fangol team, but he's not very strong. He's a quarterback on the non-varsity team, so he's got a good throwing arm, but certainly not the best. Unlike Beel, he'd rather use his time reading over working out. The 5th strongest brother.

Asmodeus

Asmo is on the shorter half of the brothers (obviously) and is actually the shortest. He just doesn't seem like it because, like Luci, he wears heels all the time. Asmo is 5'9 normally and around 5'11-6'0 in heels.

As stated previously, Asmo falls on the pretty and sexy spectrum. He's not as perfect as Lucifer is, but he shows off far more (and takes better care of himself), so he's generally considered the prettier of the two by the public.

Asmo is similar to Lucifer in how his body type is. He's strong everywhere because he's... you know... the Avatar of Lust? He's always contorting his body in weird, freaky ways. Asmo is the 4th strongest

Beelzebub

Ah, the hunk. Beel is the tallest of the seven brothers, standing at a 6'9 in his human form (just two inches shorter than Diavolo himself!)

Beel falls under the handsome spectrum (though we can all agree he's pretty cute). He just has that strong, manly look to him. He has the jawline and the muscles, so he's pretty high on the handsome spectrum.

We've all seen Beel's physique in game. He's built like a fucking truck. He plays Fangol and is one of the best players on the Varsity team. He's constantly working out. Due to all of this, Beel gets awarded the award of strongest brother.

Belphegor

The sleepy seventh born. Belphie is on the shorter end of the brothers, being only 5'11. When he slouches (which he often is) he's around Asmo's height.

Belphie falls under the pretty spectrum, though lower than Levi on it because he doesn't do a proper skincare routine.

Belphie doesn't work out and doesn't play games that force him to work out like Levi. The only times he ever moves his body is when Beel makes him. By far the weakest brother.

Thank you for all the support I receive on these. Let me know if you want a part two with the undateables

(and if you do if someone could please tell me how tf I link a second part to this)

Feel free to ask for stories or headcanons with my ask box. I know I don't post many stories here, but that's because I haven't written any fanfiction in basically a month (yippee writing slump)

[artist-issues]

Okay I get that they gotta rekindle the interest in How to Train Your Dragon because of the new theme park—as if that's necessary, like streaming doesn't keep things relevant for kids born after the time of its release—but WHY A LAZY UGLY LIVE-ACTION ADAPTATION?

I think Universal should've just made a new movie in the HTTYD universe.

They should've made it small, simple, with an enormous heart, earnest scene-blocking, winsome characterizations, and subtly gripping animation that blends the cartoon-appeal with just enough realism to be pretty-or-scary-or-exhilarating when needed—just like the original How to Train Your Dragon.

It should be set shortly after the time of How to Train Your Dragon, the first movie. That way we get the small-and-simple-with-epic-heart scale, and we don't introduce all the craziness of Hidden Dragon Ecosystems and Mad Warlord War Machines yet.

Here Let Me Just:

It should be about a kid who lives in Berk and is terrified of dragons.

This made The Kid an outcast a week ago, when Vikings were at war with dragons, already—because what Viking gives in to fear instead of punching their fear in the face?—but now everything is different...and The Kid is still an outcast. Because The Kid is just as afraid of rideable pet dragons as he or she was of enemy-dragons.

The Kid can't bring his or herself to believe that dragons are safe to be around at all. Maybe The Kid has good reason—The Kid's parents were taken by dragons or something. Anyway, The Kid doesn't want to do any of this Brave New World, Learn to Love Dragons stuff. The Kid wants to keep hiding at their no-action job (maybe he-or-she genuinely is training to be a bread-making Viking) where he or she has no friends, and wishes the dragons would just go away.

Anyway, maybe in these early days of Hiccup's New Peace a dragon suddenly appears to be kidnapping people out of the village. Sheep are going missing, too. Houses are burning completely down in the night. So Berk is starting to doubt all over again whether dragons can be trusted. Hiccup and Toothless leave to chase a lead, and our Kid Character is forced out of his or her comfort zone when someone they love is taken by whatever dragon is causing the unrest.

So then The Kid character tries to solve the mystery, and it turns out there's a dragon (NOT a Night Fury, a different flavor of "cool dragon" with a totally different KIND of appeal) who's not causing the kidnappings or burning's but is somehow involved, and is the key to finding whoever is framing the dragons and luring Hiccup and Toothless away from the island to do it. (It should just be a Berk Viking, who's bitter, to foil our Kid Character—not a supervillain.)

Obviously there are challenges, like "how do I make any dragon interesting to spend a movie's length of time with when a Night Fury exists." But the focus and theme would be tighter on "act in spite of fear" rather than Hiccup's story's "understanding trumps fear" type-thing. A sister-message.

And with the plot localized to Berk, you're getting a lot of that classic Island-of-How-To-Train-Your-Dragon imagery, so that going to the new theme park feels relevant because you just watched a movie where that's mostly the setting.

And Hiccup and Toothless can be a bigger part of the story if we want. Whatever. But that's what they should've done. Small, charming, with a you-didn't-see-that-coming classic impact.

something LIKE that

not a new-but-worse take on something that was already perfect

[msookyspooky]

Female Genderbent House of Wax AU

Me and @bitchyhorror have been discussing a genderbent AU and how much more tragic it would have been for Bo and Vincent Sinclair to be women in HoW. In fact, female conjoined twins have a drastically increased survival rate compared to males.

Beauregard 'Bo' / Beatrice 'Bea'

- The pretty sister, the 'normal' sister and yet the blacksheep. The bad seed. The Reject.

- Always wears her hair in a way to hide the scar. She never was the same after the surgery according to her folks...Was it that her brain was messed up? Was it anger at how she was treated?

- Trudy forced her in dresses and dainty doll-like clothes at a young age. Always a fight every morning with her tearing the bow out in overstimulated rage and then being hit for it.

- Never fit in, never made her parents proud, yet looked like she should have been the apple of their eye.

- Your twin sister is ugly and has to hide her face because of you attached to her and still a good girl; what's your excuse? She could've been the most beautiful perfect girl and destroyed that just by being born.

- Always damned for how 'unlady-like' she was. What a disgrace having a daughter with the Sinclair name be so ill mannered and such a lil bitch. And look at what you did to yourself! Marking your skin up by fighting those belts. You want everyone to see those and judge us!?

- Obviously cracked under pressure and couldn't take anymore by a certain age. Her first times with guys were escapes to numb the pain and it made it worse. She was the families biggest regret. She had fantasies that weren't right. SHE wasn't right.

- Bonus to her trauma; she's gay. In the Bible Belt Deep South. The Church she goes to daily like a ritual. She prays over her Mama's body for forgiveness. Forgiveness for being masculine and being unlady like and working on cars instead of what her Mama wanted. Forgiveness for tainting everything she touches...Forgiveness for her urges.

- Just to lure pretty women she doesn't think she'd have a chance with. Or better yet, doesn't try. Bind them the way she was as a girl. Relive her trauma with them and show them both the love she never got and the abuse she endured. She's technically a Stone Butch touch-me-not even if she doesn't really get into labels or know the term other than WRONG.

- It was drill into her she was going to Hell just for liking women so what does how she likes them or killing people matter?

- She likes women at her mercy and unable to touch her. Unable to hurt her. Forced into being what will make her feel in control for once in her life

- She thinks she's a Sociopath/Anti Social but really she has severe CPTSD. It's why she is codependent on her sister yet resents her, why she never leaves, why she insist on making a town something her abusive mother wanted, why she can't have intimacy without reliving her past with her forced fetish. She is deeply disturbed and is reliving the trauma to be in control and make sense of it daily.

- She dehumanizes others not because of natural apathy but because it was taught and because she feels a duty to fill the town with wax corpses that outweighs her morals. She was never given empathy so how would she know? All she knows is she does feel guilt when calling her sister a freak even if she doesn't know how to make amends.

- In denial. Her Mama was stressed. Her Daddy was busy. Her Twin was Good. SHE was the monster. She deserved to be hit and tied down...Right?

Vincent / Victoria

- Her Mama's favorite. Trudy's protégé. And yet...Trudy's secret. Trudy's guilt and remorse and hindrance. She couldn't brag about Victoria...Not with her limitations.

- Not being like other girls weighed on her heavily. She always watched those old movies and cried herself to sleep wishing she could be like them. Dainty, Pretty, Desired. She kept her hair long just to have that once of femininity and to hide her face.

- Relied on her Identical Twins pretty face, her normal face, as a mold for her masks and even if she loved her twin the resentment built over time

- Bea got to go out into the world. Bea could have anyone. Bea could do anything. Victoria's only talent was her wax sculpting making her mother proud stuck in Ambrose

- It wasn't fair! Victoria was the girly one, the talented one, the good one and yet because of her face she was the ugly forgotten one that hid. The face her twin got to have and took for granted.

- She has never been kissed or never held hands. Never had anyone love her. Truly love her. Want her in a way a woman should be wanted and loved. Both twins felt unlovable. One for her face, one for her personality.

- And every argument Bea brought up her face and every argument she could tell her ill tempered twin regretted it but the damage was done and it chipped at her heart.

- Ate away at what little sanity she had from such isolation and dehumanization. Mute, deformed, had parents that hurt yet loved her with their words and actions, blamed by her twin for Beatrice's mistreatment, never allowed to be normal.

- Victoria would caress her victims longingly. She viewed bodies like works of art but oh how she wished this strong male victim under her would want her. Yearn for her like she saw in movies. To gently trail her soft fingers from years of wax working over his paralyzed form. See the fear in his eyes and wish it was adoration. How cruel it was that God let her be born, she always thought.

- She applied makeup to her mask. Making herself pretty in the mirror as if that wax mask was her face. That's all she wanted was to be pretty to someone...Just one person look at her with adoration instead of fear, disgust or pity.

- Unlike her male counterpart in the original movie; her lack of beauty eats at her even more as a young Southern Belle. Us women and femme presenting are pressured to be beautiful even more than men/masc presenting and it eats at her daily that she isn't. Even more that it eats at Vincent in the movie.

- Shields her face crying and hiding like a traumatized animal whenever her mask is knocked off or damaged. No one can see her! Her mother gave her such kindness in drilling it into her to cover her disgusting face...

- Wax sculpts because it's all she knows. Always waxing women with envy and reverence at what she COULD be.