#brainworm refuse to leave me alone

[nightfal1n]

Potential kn8 Chapter 113 Spoiler:

What if their ancestors somehow connected

[propertyofwhitney67]

Angst-ish Cow TF Whitney,,, he gets cow time (Remy approved) like an idiot and PC has to help him adjust to his physically changed body bc he's probably dissociating the farm was probably terrible to him :(

If the smutty brainworms are there for u do as u please.

Stubborn Slut

Cow!Whitney x F!Reader

Prompt event: Angst and Hybrid/Tf

Words: 404

Tw: hybrid, dissociation?, self conscious, angst

Note: Sadly the smutty brain worms didn't act up

It’s a miracle Whitney made it out, I know how ruthless Remy can be. He doesn’t let go of his cattle easily, I thought while wiping away the rest of the dried mud from his face, “There…” I whispered, not wanting to startle him. He was pretty out of it, standing in the mirror and staring at himself. I know he’s always hated how he looked and I’m sure this only made it a million times worse. The horns, the ears, the tail, and now the freakishly large cock. It’s a big change, a change I know all too well having been to the farm myself.

I watched him quietly, afraid to break what trance he was it. Everything was silent till he punched the mirror, breaking it. I stepped back, avoiding the broken glass. “Whitney…?” I called out, hoping to get his attention. He ignored me, pushing past me and going into his room. I sighed and followed after him, keeping some distance. I want to help him, but he’s fighting me every step of the way

He sat down on his bed, face in his hands. I slowly sat down beside him, “Why won’t you just fuck off?” His intention was to sound angry and mean, but he only sounded sad and broken. “Just leave me alone!”

I sighed, putting a hand on his arm.  “I’m not leaving you like this, let me help you.” He only shrugged off my hand, laying down in bed with his back to me. He’s really starting to test my patience, but I know what he’s going through. I don’t blame him for acting like this, I was the same.

Kicking off my shoes, I laid down next to him. “I know it’s a big change-”

“No shit slut.” He hissed, refusing to look at me. “I look like a freak.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his back. “I can help…” I tightened my grip, “I went through it too, it just takes time.”

He took a deep breath, turning to face me. “You’re shit at listening.” I smiled, know that was his way of giving in and accepting my help. “Stubborn slut. “He grumbled, shoving his head into my chest to hide his face as he began to shake.

“Your stubborn slut.” I whispered, petting his hair as he began to softly cry. “ And I’m not going anywhere, Whitney.” 

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

[another-corpo-rat]

Pressure

i got the brainworms bad and this wouldn't leave me alone until i got it written - featuring @merge-conflict's thieving lil shit, Valentine 💕 thank you for allowing me to bully your gremlin once again

No explicit ship, but these two are weird about each other Summary: Smasher left a job half done; one of Valentine's arms still fleshy. Victoria considers tying up the loose end. Warnings for intentional bodily harm, both past and present.

It was endearing how Valentine looked when she was caught unawares; not quite a deer in the headlights, but something close – a slacking to the jaw, brows lifted from their usual furrow, eyes wide enough that she could almost see the thoughts in a flurry behind them, as if her touch was the last thing expected. Utterly and heart-achingly endearing.

More so with how her heart fluttered in rapid beats, betrayed in her reach for neutrality by the rampant pulse caught between Victoria’s fingers. She’s held prisoners with slower heart rates, but never quite as gentle. Never touched those destined for death as tenderly as her fingers slide over the sharp point of knuckles. Still flesh, still human unlike its opposite.

A job Smasher left half done.  

She hums at that thought, leaves it unspoken despite how Valentine’s expression turns more questioning as she ghosts along bony fingers, dipping under to brush smooth chrome against calloused skin. Likely from her time spent gallivanting about in the gutter, as hardened and cracked as the ground she hit running.

Her fingers curl, slow to grip at first until the vice tightens. The delicate bones beneath move with her strength, crushed inwards. It’s different on this end. She remembers the creaks and whine of bone in her eardrums, rising into a cacophony of a sickening crunch. She could hear it even over her own voice, the desperate begging she was above and yet sank to. All for nothing.

Smasher had been relentless in the face of it. Hardly regarded it at all as his hand trailed upwards, a mockery of a lover’s caress leaving not goosebumps but agony in his wake until it proved too much to remain awake against.

And yet—

All it takes is a sharp breath sucked in through teeth for her to stop. Not pause, but stop. Her grip easing, fingertips returning to their gentle ghosting against skin, massaging into aching knuckles. A simple miscalculation of strength if Valentine were to ask.

But she doesn’t, not as Victoria’s hand retreats across the table to take refuge in the hold of a near-empty coffee cup as she distracts herself with a needless glance over of the meeting room once more.

The surprised and questioning expressions are gone now, replaced by something entirely too knowing that she refuses to meet. 

[lnkedmyheart]

Hi :)

Can you recommend some bsd angst fics? ( angst is my shit and I wanna suffer lol )

I have a few so under the cut. A couple would be more popular but the rest are imo pretty underrated.

Akai by itotypes

"All is fair in love and war, right?"

Obviously. I personally find it a lot more fun angst than suffering angst though. Includes Dazai with a walking stick.

Yellow roses (400 yen) by the_most_happy

Dazai Osamu is not dead. Oh, he tried. But when he jumped off the Port Mafia building, he didn't consider that a certain annoying Slug was going to risk everything to save him. Thanks to his old partner, Dazai is given the chance to start a new life as a civilian: he has an apartment in Tokyo, a tiny flower shop crammed with plants and pots, and a mind filled with ghosts. His life is tranquil. His mission is finished. Until the day when, for the first time in five years, Chuuya walks into his flower shop with a job.

This is a angsty post canon beast au but this doesn't include Chuuya's meltdown cause Dazai doesn't die. Includes Dazai with a walking stick.

If you refuse to listen I’ll say it twice, love of my life by olympiansally

There’s Atsushi, Dazai’s star pupil. There’s Fyodor, arguably Dazai’s soulmate, a single mind in two bodies. There’s Kunikida, Dazai’s partner. There’s Oda, the reason Dazai wants to live. And then there’s Chuuya. If he asked Dazai to define him, to name his purpose, Chuuya already knows what he would hear. Chuuya is his dog, Chuuya is a slug, Chuuya is a chibi. And sure, maybe he is. But none of that is enough. Or, Chuuya can’t figure out what he means to Dazai exactly, but if he would only listen, he would realize that Dazai has been telling him all along.

This isn't exactly angsty but it's funny angsty cause Chuuya is oblivious as fuck in this and keeps jumping through hoops the whole time. Bro is literally living the brojob nightmare.

I Said It Was A Dream (and he agreed) by Hum My Name (My_Kind_of_Crazy)

The plan: Dazai Osamu leaves the mafia after Odasaku’s death, but he doesn’t leave behind his rage. Fuelled by the need to avenge his friend, he creates a painstaking plan to tear down the Port Mafia— to create a false haven for mafia members while, behind the scenes, he collects information meant to expose the organization for the criminal terror it is. The dilemma: Dazai doesn’t plan on Chuuya finding him. Chuuya believes Dazai’s simply hiding from the mafia, starting fresh with a harmless job in a local bar. They have their closure and move on— until Chuuya seeks him out again. Eventually, their emotions for one another can no longer be ignored. But Dazai’s desperation to take down the mafia means he can’t become distracted by his feelings for Chuuya Maybe, he can use this connection with Chuuya to his benefit. Maybe, he can have everything he wants, so long as Chuuya never finds out.

This is a canon divergence angst fic where Dazai decides to destroy the PM.

Release series by afinepricklypear

After countless days (months?) fighting against hundreds of fictional murderers in Poe’s book and using the time alone to reflect, Chuuya is released. (Alt: How Chuuya got out of the book Ranpo trapped him in towards the end of Season 3)

This was really fun for me as someone who enjoys angst, a lot of it is pre sb though.

Confessions of a lie by afinepricklypear

For three months, Chuuya has been missing and, during that time, Dazai has fallen further into an obsessive search for him. Until late one rainy night, an oddly familiar looking woman knocks on Dazai’s door.

This is a really odd entry ngl, I adore the angst and it's deliberately ooc. It's from 2020 so there is a lot of canon skk context missing but idk I found it an unexpectedly nice read. There are discussions of SA and coercion, some pre stormbringer characterization issues but if you go into this as a canon divergence au concept it's very enjoyable. Also the author is very explicit about this being a brainworm that they needed to write cause it wouldn't leave them alone.

Retrace by Kuranoa.

Chuuya dreams every night, and in those dreams, he dies the most horrendous deaths, over and over. He wakes up in a cold sweat, afraid and disoriented. Dazai always assures him that they are nothing but nightmares. In this world, Fyodor has successfully obtained The Book. In this world, Dazai has witnessed Chuuya’s death 18,263 times.

I genuinely don't remember much from this fic but I do remember finding this good enough to be one of the first fics I bookmarked.

[thedragonagelesbian]

future and mistake for cyrus? :o

:oooooooooooooooooooo

oc asks: not so nice edition

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

Solas: You truly are content to sit in the sun, never wondering what you could've been, never fighting back.

Varric: Ha, you've got it all wrong, Chuckles. This is fighting back.

Solas: How does passively accepting your fate constitute a fight?

Varric: In that story of yours—-the fisherman watching the stars, dying alone. You thought he gave up, right?

Solas: Yes.

Varric: But he went on living. He lost everyone, but he still got up every morning. He made a life, even if it was alone.

Varric: That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes. And it's gone forever.

Varric: The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets.

Forgive the somewhat abstract answer, but this banter gives me brainworms, and I can't help but understand it in the context of Cyrus' worst possible future. Even in his other worst case scenario--being hollowed out and reduced to nothing but a symbol and a weapon--there's that possibility that someone else will be able to save him, that he will still be surrounded by people who care about and love him even if his soul is fractured and his body is claimed by arcane entities beyond his comprehension.

But losing everybody? Having to go on living alone? Having to make peace with failure and to face loss with grace? Will he ever be the type of person content to sit in the sun, to accept his own stubborn happiness and survival as a furious refusal of a world that has marked him again and again for death and despair?

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

DA2 Cyrus: leaving Bethany behind on the Deep Roads Expedition. He doesn't know that he would have lost her no matter what, of course, just that his absence led to her being taken to the Circle. The irony of course is that telling Bethany to stay in Kirkwall was a unilateral protective big brother decision.

He's tried very hard to fix this particular error, despite Bethany's insistence that he come to terms with the situation. In the month after returning from the expedition, he got himself badly hurt many times trying (and utterly failing) to break her out of the Gallows, and he spent more than a few nights imprisoned there himself. He keeps carrying that guilt and anger for years. Of course, Bethany does eventually leave the Circle in the end... if under less than ideal circumstances.

Pallybarb Cyrus: breaking his oath; it was a moment of pettiness and frustration with profound consequences, but with Karlach's help, he was able to accept it and even embrace the uncertainty and the flexibility that being a full-fledged oathbreaker comes with.

Shadow Sorc Cyrus: not stopping Astarion from emptying him like an industrial strength drain snake. He wouldn't have considered it a mistake if he had just died (pallybarb Cyrus did not mind that NEARLY as much as he should've), but instead it started a chain of events ending with his body lost and his soul bound to a sword, and that's not counting all the weeks of dysphoria and alienation and isolation and active self-destruction and...

So, um. No. He hasn't fixed it, and he DEFINITELY hasn't moved on no matter how much he tells himself and others that he is Really Super Fine (don't mind him screaming at abdirak to hurt him as bad as possible or letting volo icepick him or shotgunning tadpoles or--)

Ranger Cyrus: trusting [redacted], eventually remedied with a sword through the gut, a crack of divinity like a lightning strike burning out the hollow of a tree, a blur of blood and tears and screaming even as he cradles the dying body

[spoiltizzy]

When Stede finds the Kraken's crew starving and hunched around that bird he goes on a mission to fatten them all up again and he's not taking no for an answer.

there’s so many characters it’s kinda hard for me to work with them all at once lol.

i’m thinking about the way stede kinda presents a little bit like a father or mother to his crew sometimes, reading them stories and guiding them through arts and crafts. it would be strange but sort of satisfying in a way to stede take that in the direction of ‘nobody is leaving this table until their plate is clean’. he’s overfeeding them a little, it’s out of worry.

(also i’m really sorry lol but i’m one of those guys who didn’t really like the season two finale and it has me in this headspace where half my ofmd ideas currently are weird and fucked up and bordering on psychological horror. i have very odd brainworms currently about ed and stede not knowing who they are when they’re alone together in domesticity, or who to be, and sort of subconsciously emulating strange mockeries of heteronormativity. i should expand on that on a whole seperate post probably.)

really though he’s just making food overabundant and praising them for eating a lot and encouraging them to eat more. he’s actually being fairly sweet about the whole thing.

also, separately, i imagine stede hand-feeding a drunk and bitter izzy because izzy is refusing to do so himself. izzy is reluctantly grateful for it, and bonnet is sickly sweet about the whole thing. it’s nearly condescending. it is. stede’s not without ego in the matter. as izzy starts to gain weight and become more agreeable with him, stede feels self-satisfied and clever, like a little boy who has managed to train a wild animal to eat from his hand.

(again i think i might be stuck in slightly fucked up brain mode lol sorry)

[deltaruminations]

ok fuck it. now that i have new and exciting flavors of Teen Gaster brainworms let’s bullshit some headcanon fodder

managing the unintelligible font issue: the kid just doesn’t talk very much. he mostly interacts non-verbally and we get descriptions from narration and reactions from other characters, like kris but a NPC. in the event that he does speak maybe other characters echo his sentiments back so players can get the gist and keep moving in the moment. potential for comedy here too

as a party member, i’m guessing some kind of scout or support class. rogue/assassin/sniper or artificer. frail, bides time, needs a lot of coverage/defending, but potent when he does ACT. former could balance kris & noelle (fighter & cleric), latter could balance kris & susie (fighter & barbarian). in either case it’s still kind of uneven, or at least requires new strategies, which could be interesting/challenging

if, as speculated, ralsei leaves the party at some point, that leaves potentially two characters (kris & susie or kris & noelle) alone with this chaotic stupid whiz kid and free to make Extremely Bad Choices (cue ENTRY NUMBER SEVENTEEN)

given that ralsei is potentially his future self’s OC how funny would it be if Teen Gaster just can’t fucking stand the guy. he thinks ralsei is such a sopping wet blanket preachy goody goody motherfucker he rolls his eyes every time the dude even opens his mouth. maybe ralsei leaves the party because Teen G is so passive aggressive to him he’s like "yeah this guy sucks. i’ll be at the castle call me when he gets himself killed trying to eat weird mushrooms or whatever"

also very funny to consider UI Gaster creating the world’s nicest most patient fluffy boy to be his own past self’s babysitter but his past self is such a dipshit even his carefully engineered nanny program refuses to deal with him (and/or UI Gaster is so bad at intuiting what people like/want he can’t even create a friend for himself)

gaster continues to be his own worst enemy and living in hells of his own making

his tea tastes like Something but no one can figure out what the fuck it is. vaguely licorice-y maybe (asters are sometimes used in tea but it isn’t too common these days. but aniseed is also notably star shaped…). it heals a random amount between 40 (who the fuck is this guy) and 70 (yeah he’s ok i guess) each time except to ralsei who loses like 10 HP from it. Teen G gets like 120 HP from everyone else’s teas except ralsei’s which he just refuses to drink

actually you know what susie probably really likes the dude. come on. she’s got the biggest heart ever. she gets 120 from his tea and is like “HELL YEAH!! BLACK LICORICE!!!" and ralsei looks at her like she’s insane

noelle finds him very off-putting and gets bad vibes but goes along with it because he’s Nice Enough Right? whether or not she eventually decides to trust her gut on this significantly impacts the trajectory of things (potential for Noelle-Ralsei Solidarity Moment as well)

fwiw a lot of this could also be reworked to fit papyrus, especially if you’re in the camp of What If Papyrus Deltarune Is Kind Of A Shithead speculation. make of that what you will

[forbidding-souda]

Hi! Hope you're having a great weekend! Absolutely love your blog and when I had this idea while on my way to work I knew I had to request you!

Can I request Mondo, Kiyo and Kaito with a Gyaru SO?

I have the world's most insistent brainworms I-

Mondo Oowada, Shinguuji Korekiyo, and Kaito Momota with a Gyaru S/O

I fucking love gyaru's this is an excellent request thank you. gyaru is so broad so help each of the things I say are going to be lowkey different but we'll deal with it together.

i wrote the mondo one listening to angeleyes by abba so you can imagine

also not proofread sorry if some things sound a little silly.

-Mods Souda

Mondo Oowada

✯ You're beauty and you're grace, you're also the one driving him insane. When you do your hair well and whenever you have lashes on, you will refuse to ride on that bike with him. There is no way you're going to ruin your pretty look with his high speeds, so he will either pull a I'll meet you there, then or he becomes a public commuter. The only complaints he has about your style is the typical masculine man things, like you taking up a lot of counter space in the bathroom with your stuff (but some of it smells really nice) and the amount of jewelry you just leave around.

✯ this one's a little suggestive i think.

This bar was the kind that, without ever being heard of, always had somebody in it. In all hours of the day somebody is out and about, and this bar was something of a unique type. It was an American-biker bar. You go in there almost constantly just for that reason, you're a regular! Being that it is an American themed bar, however, you often get bosozoku popping in checking out who are foreigners and who are not. Where the bosozoku are, Mondo tends to follow. There was him and two other boys, each standing at separate places, when you came in. Your eyes quickly go to him. You went and stood at the bar by the orange-toned lights that hang from the ceiling. It had been an annoying day at work, so annoying that during your break you had gone outside just to stand in the sunlight, and you swore you had fallen asleep standing there. Now, rather than going to sleep, you had decided to go out (and alone). Not that it matters to you, you have an ulterior motive anyway. Mondo finally, hesitantly, appeared and leaned over you to the bar. A tank top this low in the night? He should be getting cold. "What's up?" You smile at him. He ignores you, ordering your drink, already well acquainted with both the sight of you and the taste of your lips when you leave this place. "What's up with you?" "I wanted to see if you were here," you say, clicking your heels innocently. "Gotcha. Missin' me or something?" You stare at him with bright eyes, looking at him as if he's an angel. He's still yet to look down at you. He knows that if he does, he will fold immediately, giving into your beauty [and the way you stare at him as if he is the most beautiful man in the world]. He adds on, more meek, "Comin' out all this way for me?" He remembers the last time he drove you home where you had told him that going all the way over to him was starting to take time out of your day, where you had asked him to start going over to you instead. With the amount of areas he is not supposed to go in at certain times of the day (and this is something you are very unaware about) he was starting to get worried he'd not be able to see you as often. This was a few weeks ago, and his worry was indeed correct. "How terrible of me, I know," you add sarcastically, "my poor pasmo." "Shut it." You look up to see his face, which is almost burning red in a flush, but the small smirk on his face tells you that he's not exactly mad.

✯ If you play your music loud, he doesn't mind at all. He's all about being loud.

✯ ^ Which, in terms of him being loud, you thought his initial loudness was charming. When he first met you, he was nervous asf because of how pretty you are, so he was stuttering and accidentally raising his voice and everything. Your improper words and the slang you use helped him settle in the casual conversation, as the more you two talked, the more he realized you weren't like those other people who required formalities and properness to get along with others.

✯ When the members of his gang tease him for having a girlfriend they will always use the -poyo suffix to portray the way you talk.

.

Shinguuji Korekiyo

✯ While he is a scholar of history and ancient culture, you tend to be more knowledgable on modern habits. His first impulse is to correct you on certain things until he realizes that, truly, you do know more than him. This little culture in Japan is extremely interesting to him. Learning is something he is grateful for. He is always motivated to expand his mind, and you help him with this, which is a reason he finds himself inspired by you (and attracted to you).

You were determined to leave your room even if you had no cause. There's a certain level of expectation you find yourself achieving, especially online. You've been inspired ('inspired' is used loosely) to share your interesting surroundings at least once a day. This fits in to Shinguuji's lifestyle. Most of the time, he wakes up early. He has this whole routine that you are more than welcome to get involved with, or interrupt. When he's done (and waiting for you to finish getting ready) the two of you head on your way to a location he's promised. He always gets pleased by your curiosity and treats it like it's the most magical thing in the world. The trip only took an hour and thirty. The silence of the train kept you on your toes, and with boredom you would glance over to him, staring at his peaceful face: eyebrows low and a hair stuck in his eyelashes. Even though it has began to be summer, there was still cold wind within transportation, it was something that you were unprepared for considering the weather reports on your phone, and so the two of you stand there as he lets you push your fingers into his sleeves. Beyond concrete borders is a world of sand and fresh-smelling water, where the sun suddenly started to peak from behind the clouds, the rays becoming the warmth you so expected. You both made your way past families and sand castles. "This place looks the same as the beaches on tv," you say, stepping closer to the water but soon back as it tries to touch your toes. "Hmm. This might just be the one on tv." Even though you feel as if you might be over-dressed for the beach, there is still an exchange of pleasantries with you and the ozone. "It is, isn't it?" With a sudden silence, the waves brings both water and ambience. Seconds pass before you decide to speak again. "Well," you smile, "let's take pictures. I can pretend to be one of those sexy actresses, what do you think?" "I think it's a lovely idea."

✯ He can take you on tours of traditional sites, even ones you've been to already. You can tweet about your experience and he will take picture of you in front of the sites and structures that welcome that behavior. He appreciates the fact that you are spreading this knowledge to people (he makes sure to proofread anything you're saying).

✯ Hairspray doesn't bother him, but what does bother him is the fact that you use the same type of eyeliner he does. How is he supposed to know which is yours and which is his?

✯ Having a conversation with his colleagues is always funny because they speak so professional, and so does he, but then you come into the conversation with your casual (and often disrespectful tone) and it catches the other party off guard.

✯ He loves it when you say resourceful things in that tone of yours, it makes his heart flutter.

✯ And he loves how magnificent your eyes look when you have that makeup on. Whether it's the type to accentuate or dramaticize, he finds it absolutely lovely. He loves unique makeup styles, he can talk all about the history of it and such.

✯ Dating a fashionista means that he has a new outlook on things like the development of modern clothing and advertisement. He notices cultural norms upon clothing styles and the ways to wear makeup and beauty products in general.

✯ Some of the things our civilization prefers are very similar to the ones he studies from hundreds of years ago, he finds.

.

Kaito Momota

✯ He had boldly introduced himself. He decided to stop being nervous and to just go ahead and alert you of his presence, as he is an astronaut, one of the best in the world, so logically why would you not consider meeting him a new beginning? He was fascinated by you since the start. He took time out of his day to respond to your tweets, and retweet the funny ones, making his twitter 80% you (and you noticed him, of course you did). When he walked up to you in person, you pretended not to recognize him, which very much confused him because ever since he graduated, people have been acknowledging him like they never have before. "I'm just messing you you," you had laughed behind your hand, watching his head tilt. His confused expression quickly turned into a laugh as he put his hand on his hip. "Oh man, you got me!"

Leaving it until the last minute would annoy you, and he knows that, but he always has his priorities a little scrambled. The unpleasant impression he might leave you with is the reason he is running back and forth in his room trying to find that glitter glue you lended him a few weeks ago (it's not that he forgot to give it back, he just wanted to keep it until you specifically asked for it back). You both eat together for a Valentines' Day dinner, and you notice how antsy he seems to be. You offered to let him show you things on the telescope again but he refused, saying he'd rather spend time with you here, and his gaze shifted away as he said so. You pout a bit and sink into your seat, because outside of anticipation, you don't like this behavior from him. Somehow, you both still found your way outside, the cold air chilling your nose, your faces looking up at the stars (it never gets old to him). To him, this seems as good a time as any. "I really like your lipstick today," he says, seeking a casual way in. "It's lip gloss." "Yeah, that. I really like the glitter." He sticks his hand in his pocket, warming up his fingers as well a fiddling with a paper inside. "Except for when it gets on your lips, right?" You joke, checking your nails. He laughs, trying to find a way to steer the conversation. Does he compliment you more? He wonders if that is the right move, or if you'd just think he's buttering you up (is he?). Instantaneously, he gives up. Without anymore hesitance he lets his confidence return to his body as he takes out the folded piece of construction paper and hands it over. "I made you something!" He says, the excitement in his voice a bit faux. You manage a little laugh, one that only derives from curiosity. "Oh, yeah?" You unfold it, getting a bit of the glitter on your hands, it falling on your outfit when you open it fully. His hand stays in his glitter-filled pocket. You're really pretty the text says in faulty handwriting. You still grin, looking at the drawings of flowers that cover the bottom. The grin turns into a smile, and heat begins to raise to your cheeks. So this is why he was so nervous. "This is so cute! Agepoyo!" "Thank you... I'm not very creative, aren't I?" But you are beyond his self-deprecation, instead ignoring his words and wrapping your arms around his neck. "So amazing," you whisper against his skin. "It's so amazing."

✯ He likes giving you gifts because of the cute reactions you have. He assumes that sometimes you're being overdramatic on purpose, but that doesn't stop him from getting butterflies at the compliments.

✯ He loves it when you take selfies with him, it boosts his confidence (especially when you post them). There's something about you showing him off to your audience that makes him want to hold you to his chest and keep you there forever.

✯ He feels very silly being around so much girly stuff all the time. You leave your lipglosses on tables and counters, and you have lash glue stuffed into some of his jackets pockets.

✯ He does like it when you carry around combs, though. He takes care of his hair more than anything else.

✯ Sunshine is almost nonexistant during some seasons, so the fashionable outfits you wear that go against the weather are often less insufferable when he lends you his jacket.

✯ ^ It's camp.

✯ ^ Your fans find it endearing.

[reilliane]

I just had to share a brainworm I had for Vigil after your stories made me bawl in my room at 1AM!! This isn't a request or anything, I just had this sink into my head and needed to throw it at someone!!

I can't help but imagine an AU where Kazuha's sister was found by the Shogun's forces just a breath away from death and her unconscious self dragged before the Raiden Shogun for judgement. With a fugitive and the perfect leverage right in front of them, Yae Miko is put to work on resuscitating her and bringing her back to health.

Thus begins the years spent in total isolation as a hostage for the Shogun. The only contact she gets is when she gets her meals or Kujou Sara's rare visits.

Flash forward to Aether arriving to liberate Inazuma with Kazuha when Sara intercepts them with an offer from the Raiden Shogun. In her eternal mercy, in exchange for the fugitive and the visions of the leaders of the rebellion, she will free Kazuha's sister.

Her proof of her survival is yards and yards of embroidered fabric. All decorated beautifully with thousands of maple leaves. Years of work all showing Kazuha how long his sister has been trapped, and the thought that maybe if he'd done just a little more that night they could spent all those years together

and the thought that he abandoned her still alive out in the cold

Omg the angst fuel in this is so splendid, the tea is bitter, I like it so much- (Oh the healing wonders of Electro)

I couldn't resist expanding your idea, darling anon, I hope you don't mind. If a short appears with this idea, it's dedicated to you

More under the cut because it got incredibly long hehe

I'm not kidding, it's long- (✿◡‿◡)

I think this idea of yours will work best after Signora's death, where the Traveler rendezvoused with Gorou, Kazuha, and the resistance. Sara is quick to recover and call after them—the Traveler won in the duel, why not propose an exchange, then?

Imagine Kazuha refusing to believe it at first because he was there- he was there when MC took her last breath. Or so he thought.

Then just- Sara taking MC from the dungeons to have her kneel at the steps of Tenshukaku and oh boy, the reality crashing down on the poor man.

Right there, reliving the moment his friend went through is his sister—her [c] eyes still have the gleam, but they're so- so foreign now. It's like they've lost all hope, they're there, but incredibly distant.

Kazuha faces a crossroads and everyone is looking at him. Will it be betrayal or not? I strongly feel, though, that he won't abide by the exchange, but oh how it just crushes him.

He tearfully rejects the offer and that's when Ei strikes—and of course, we have to stick to canon- he manages to awaken Tomo's Vision and boOOOM!

The very moment the Traveler is taken back to Ei's Euthymia, you can bet that all hell broke loose. Nothing but burning hot red is what Kazuha sees and there is only one goal in mind, he must get MC back—even if it means making an enemy of the Tenryou Clan by smiting Sara.

Kazuha's already weeping by the time he manages to save MC and all that leaves him are apologies—starting from the very start.

For being distant, for only making amends when it's already too late, for leaving her behind despite it being her wish, and for not choosing her earlier. MC's without a doubt the sacrificial kind, he knows she would prefer it if her brother chose Inazuma over her, but still.

The guilt, dears, the guilt-

And he just holds her in his arms, rocking them both so gently like MC did when they were younger. Caressing her hair, whispering his apologies amidst his tears, promising to keep her safe, promising to be a better brother.

And- and, though MC does not respond verbally, still stuck in the eternal horror she's faced alone, she just- holds her sibling's arm, and the latter breaks apart immediately.

MC's recovery process will take a long time and just having her there spaced out makes Kazuha remember all the tragedy- and then he's silently tearing up again.

Oh and for more angst? Just MC looking at him- blank and out of it, but she wipes his tears away, regardless. Poor Kazu just spirals down into anguish even more.

All that traveling he's so desired? To travel the world? They're gone.

He will be by his sister's side all the time during her healing, taking baby steps, slowly reteaching the beauty of the world like she's done for him. It's hard and it's a long way to go, but it will have its merit.

And just imagine the bittersweet feelings that rupture when one day, someday, he's cooking some food for them when he hears it-

"Kazu,"

He just- stands there frozen because did he hear that right?

And he turns- and MC's standing there- although she looks as if she's come from war, the light is back in her eyes and she's gazing at him the same way when there were no troubles for them.

Then just- oh my goodness- him just whispering a trembling, 'nee-san..' in disbelief. Then his mind kicks into motion and his tears are springing back again- and another crying session starts, but the difference now is that MC is actively responding.

She's healed—she's alright, she's back, she's alive.

And Kazuha won't make the same mistakes again.

(Actually he did, and that was burning their dinner lmao- but that's alright, because their first bonding time after so long is cooking! :DDD)

[dawnsdarkside]

     so after drac sent me this picture and i showed it to emmy we both marveled at how much diluc actually looks like (we both picture) murata in a certain light and emmy said ‘you’d think she actually gave birth to him w how similar they look’ which opened the door for me to share this brainworm thats been wiggling in my head for some time now

     ive already claimed high and loud that diluc is one of the children of murata, i think thats arguably canon at this point given vennessa was one of them and its strongly hinted that diluc is vennessa’s descendant with her showing up in his idle animation and all the falcon (and various birds of prey) symbols associated with the ragnvindr family both in the game and the manga

     but going forward and until canon explicitly dismantles this idea, i’ll be taking for granted that diluc is not just one of the many scattered children of murata descended from a century old lineage, but he is, in fact, the direct son of murata (@/dehimmel specifically).

     sensing an upcoming war with the tsaritsa and knowing her lineage was very diluted as it had been centuries since she had had children of her own, she thought she’d benefit from producing a proper heir that might step up where her other descendants wouldn’t as there was too little fire left in their veins. she turned her attention to a man far from natlan who had been praying to her for a vision ever since he had been old enough to keep faith. while she did not deem him worthy of one, she took pity on him and offered to grant him another one of his wishes: blessing him with a child.

     it was purely strategical. she did not expect to love her son as much as she did, but it broke her heart to keep her end of the deal and let the man raise him on his own. she did leave him with his name, though. diluculum. ‘daybreak’. dawn.

     crepus refused to speak of her, insisting his son was his alone. at most, diluc unearthed rumors that his biological mother was some nameless foreigner who had been paid handsomely to be out of the picture the moment he found himself in his father’s arms. she visited him in his dreams throughout his childhood, though more and more scarcely as he grew up and came to accept he would never meet her in the flesh and lived a most fulfilled life in spite of that. 

     it was on the eve of his 13th birthday, right before he was knighted, that he worked up the nerve to directly ask his father, hoping the occasion would warrant straight answers. it wasn’t something that actively bothered him per se; he loved his family as it was. but for all that people insisted he was just like his father, diluc knew there was a fire in his heart that crepus did not share. he asked if his mother was alive, if she knew what he’d accomplished, if she cared. crepus simply told him he did not know and that he would not further speak of it.

     diluc never asked again.

[jojolightningfingers]

my year in fic: 2020

it’s. it’s truly inconceivable to me that i somehow managed to write 46k this year. That’s over half the total word count on my ao3 at time of writing. For the first time ever, I broke 10k (AND 15k!) on a single project. This same project was the first chapter fic I’ve ever seen to completion. It’s... been an outstanding year for me, really.

worklist under the cut

     Pruning: Yu Yu Hakusho, Yusuke/Kurama, 2.6k legitimately this fic was never supposed to exist. I wrote this completely unbeta’d in three days like a victim of demonic possession because ace fuckin goaded me and got me back on my bullshit and it gained so much more traction than i ever anticipated. i’d do it differently now, if it was a fic that i’d sat down and planned out, but? as is, i’m still rather fond of it.

     Empty Vessel: Fire Emblem - Three Houses, Dimitri/Felix, 1.7k this... this is the one that i kind of wish had gotten more attention than it did, but i’m not surprised that it didn’t. it was a challenge fic, something that i’d written to distract me and keep me writing between dry spells on working on bigger wips. This also was a fic that arguably wasn’t supposed to exist, what happened was i heard Like Real People Do for the first time and had a straight up religious experience, and this refused to leave me alone until i got it out. it’s rather purple, looking back, but i did a good job sticking to the challenge, i think.

     a dagger for impetuousness: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Bruno & Fugo, 2.8k I’ll be frank. I’m still not a hundred percent satisfied with how this one came out. Whether or not I’ll complete the series it belongs to remains to be seen, but I hope that someday in the future I will. There are things I still like about it (the way I indicated bruno’s problems with compartmentalization being foremost among them, I’m still pleased with myself over that), and things I don’t like about it. It’s an Okay Fic.

     through other eyes: Final Fantasy XV, Prompto/Noctis, 750 the shortest fic this year! another result of being brainwormed, one that I thought was good enough to post. It’s purposeless, really, more an exercise than anything else, but I remain fond of it.

     starshower: Dragon Ball Z + Ace Attorney, Clay/Future Trunks, 1.8k there’s a reason this one didn’t get it’s own post when I published it. no i will NOT elaborate. I got dared to, that’s all.

     a touch of home: Haikyuu!!, Hinata/Oikawa, 9.3k god. talk about an EFFORT of a fic. When I started it, i figured it’d only be 3k, maybe 4k if I was lucky and rambled. it got to be three times that, and I’m still trying to figure out how. The idea of those two having a fling overseas must have really appealed to some part of me, I guess. you can thank @hawberries‘ fabulous art for kickstarting it.

     Life on Gunsmoke: Trigun, Vash/various, 9k @ahkaraii‘s fusion comic made me finally sit down and binge trigun, during and after which I furiously wrote a shitload of little drabbles (some porny, some not) in ace’s dms, because if there’s one thing I love, it’s quasi-immortal character’s suffering. If there’s any other person on the planet who’s really into Vash/Livio, PLEASE step forward, i would like to talk to you.

     take hold of the sun: Bleach, Ichigo/Grimmjow, 17.8k I... what do I say about this. This fic happened so fast and mutated so quickly, I’m still having trouble processing it. Before starting it, I hadn’t so much as thought about Bleach seriously for roughly 10 years. I was legitimately working off of fuzzy high school memories of all the lore and the character voices, and the events of the arrancar and hueco mundo arcs, which I never even finished! at conception, I was going to have it be in two chapters. In chapter 1, grimmjow realizes and accepts that he is touch starved. in chapter 2, he acts to fix it. somehow. five chapters and a half-finished epilogue later, I’m here, winded. the previous longest fic i’d ever written before this year was in 2015, it was only 8k, and it took me 6 months to do. a touch of home took 4 months. i wrote all almost-18k of this... thing... in 2 months with almost no planning aforethought.

i’m happy with it. I am. unimaginably so.

I wanna break my record in 2021.

[plounce]

ema and mia :0?

EMA:

Sexuality Headcanon: just like her sister, she is a mean lesbian. except even meaner! she’s a bitch and i love her. i think her thinking edgeworth is hot in rfta is a classic example of “baby lesbian picks out a pretty man who is completely out of reach to have a crush on, but it’s actually just gaydar”

Gender Headcanon: nonbinary lesbian! she’s somewhat open about being nonbinary (has a small flag button on her bag, but doesn’t like... tell people at work etc), but she does not feel like explaining any further to people because it’s a lot of very personal feelings that are hard to articulate outside of her own head and she would just rather not deal with it. it’s not your fucking business!!!

A ship I have with said character: i love how like all the girls in aa are in the same age group so by the time they’re in their 20s it’s fine for them to meet back up and be like “oh? lesbian? trauma about family? mutual friends?” i think i will enjoy faraskye once i play aai, i think franema is cool (as i said before), and i think maya/ema could have a fun fwb thing. aa lesbian polycule when. if she has to get paired with a man in the background of another fic, i think throwing her together with clay is fine because at least they have similar interests. and honestly, if it’s well-written i’m okay with k/a/e.

A BROTP I have with said character: i love the dynamic of her, apollo, and klavier hanging out and getting a little bitchy. so fun. this fic is a really gen fic (with hints of k/a) about klavier picking up ema and apollo after they go drinking and it’s just a really good fic about the characters hanging out. read it.

A NOTP I have with said character: god i cannot articulate how much i hate kl*ma. it is such typical het shit of “wow this woman constantly expresses how much she dislikes this man and finds him annoying and that he doesn’t respect her enough when she’s doing her job! obviously this is romantic!” it’s not. stop. leave her alone.

A random headcanon: she had a superwholock phase and she doesn’t want to talk about it. in present canon she bitches on twitter all the time and has irony poisoning and she’s so so so funny. i would reply guy for ema skye to combat all the brainwormed klavier stans in her mentions due to how she occasionally posts an unflattering candid of klavier (new rare pic) with a mean caption (insulting to the parasocial icon). klavier has to constantly tweet “please do not harass @luminolskye we are friends she is just joking :)” to which ema qrts with “i am not joking.” ema has all notifications from people she doesn’t follow muted.

General Opinion over said character: she’s soooo fun i love her... the emotional core of rfta was so compelling to me, i loved the struggle between the sisters trying to save each other. i CANNOT wait to meet her in aa4 after the timeskip - i think her redesign is great and what they did with her character is so interesting + fits thematically with the rest of the aa4 cast. she’s soooo hot and she’s MEAN and BITTER but also SMIRKING and god i’m obsessed! i love her i think she’s so hot! honestly the most girlfriendy in the aa cast for me! cannot wait for her call klavier homophobic names after he flirts with apollo in court. wlw/mlm antagonism.

MIA:

Sexuality Headcanon: i think she’s a lesbian. i won’t hear any differently. the way she behaved in 3-1 at the blatant heterosexuality... i felt a kindred spirit in my soul. i don’t acknowledge miego

Gender Headcanon: she’s a woman! trans or cis, i don’t have strong feeling either way.

A ship I have with said character: LANAMIA LANAMIA LANAMIA! i knew lana was gonna say that line but “she was attracted to me” still hit me like a truck. OH MY GOD! law school gfs... i also think they’re interesting to compare to each other - the way they care so much about their sisters and deal with the responsibilities left on their shoulders after their parents exit their lives. now i am very sad thinking about how lana retreated into herself and grew cold after gant started blackmailing her, and what if mia tried to reach her, but lana refused........... very sad! very sad! very sad!

A BROTP I have with said character: i think her and phoenix just being her supportively bullying him is very fun. starting out going like I HATE SIMPS I HATE SIMPS I HATE SIMPS and then actually... hiring him... probably helping him through law school with studying! and then his first trial being like WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING STUPID? there’s also thoughts about how phoenix takes over for her as maya’s older sibling and how she supports him as a way to support maya... ugh! family units.

A NOTP I have with said character: i hate godot so god damn much. smug misogynist stop talking down to me. get away from him queen there’s a hot brunette in a scarf waiting for you at the prosecutor’s office wanting your strap

A random headcanon: i think mia studied extremely hard in law school, but i think in her spare time she was a fairly popular video essayist. phoenix helps pay rent on the office in the timeskip partially through ad revenue on her youtube channel.

General Opinion over said character: i love her i just wish... the game was less horny over her......... bro that shot of her dead body where her boobies are the literal focus of the image and you can almost see up her skirt... what the fuck? that’s the dead body of a woman i just talked to five minutes ago? also, because i’m currently playing aa3, i hate the stupid fucking scene where maya channels her so her badonkers can make the old man agreeable! it sucks! leave mia alone! regardless. i think she is hot and smart. and i wish i could just enjoy her titties in a tasteful depiction but noooo men are horny.

[lazykcdoodler]

Coco brainworm that won’t leave me alone

*spoilers, speculation and angst below*

Mama Imelda never hated music; just what it reminded her of and what it had done to her family. Maybe when Ernesto told her about the death of Hector, she’d resolved to put his picture on the ofrenda. She was hurt, and struggling- but she had loved him once. Coco loved him still.

Then one day, Ernesto’s first record hits the shelves of Santa Cecilia. Imelda picks one up, idly wondering what he’d come up with (he’d always been a deft guitarist, a decent singer- but composition had never been his strength.)

Her heart stops when she reads the song titles listed on the back.

These were Hector’s songs. She knew them by heart. He’d sung Un Poco Loco at their recepcion; she’d kissed him, then. Now she heard it from the mouth of every mariachi, and she feels cold.

Imelda doesn’t hate music. But in Santa Cecilia, de la Cruz is blasted from every corner, and her memories of her once loved husband sour. He left his family and died in a barrio miles from home, and shared private memories- precious memories- with his ambitious best friend, for the sake of fame and fortune.

(De la Cruz was a bit of a penjedo, but one she had grown up with. Hector’s best friend, Coco’s Tio Ernesto. The possibility of foul play never enters her mind.)

She first bans de la Cruz’s music from the house for Coco’s sake. If Un Poco Loco now makes her feel ill, Remember Me leaves her furious. Her daughter’s lullaby has become a bastardized love ballad, and Imelda refuses to let her hear it.

The record does well. Incredibly well. The town is so proud of its hometown hero. Imelda can’t get away from them- except in the privacy of her walls. Words like forgiveness and amends become anathema, as bitter proof of her husband’s betrayal and abandonment are sung from every corner and become woven into the national identity.

Imelda doesn’t hate music. She loved it before Hector, and she loved it after Hector. But as Ernesto de la Cruz becomes a household name in every house but hers, as thinking of his name and his fame mean thinking of Hector, who is and was music, even after his death, and the music lived on-

- she can’t think of music anymore. She won’t. She won’t let Coco think of it either.

When Dia del Muertos comes that year, Hector’s grave is cold and undecorated, his belongings sold and thrown away. His face is ripped from the family picture, carefully stored and hidden away by his little girl. His face is far from the ofrenda, and he stands on the other side of the bridge for the first of many cold and long decades to come.

The Rivera house is quiet. This year, Imelda is busy learning to make shoes in between moments of fond remembrance for everyone but her husband. She’ll give the day its proper attention later, but if she works hard enough now, she can drown out the sound of the mariachi outside.

The house stays quiet for years to come.

[miiruwrites]

we're still at the peak (so where do we go from here?)

Fandom: New Dangan Ronpa V3 Rating: Teen Summary: An instant meeting and an eternity that changed their lives for better or for worse, thought it's hard to tell with all of them, even after all is said and done.

After all, what do you do in a world without the one thing you said you wouldn't want to live without?

(Tsumugi reflects months after the killing game's end - and where she can go from here.) Pairing: No romantic relationship, Tsumugi & Saihara friendship Notes: sometimes you just get brainworms at 4am and it turns into something more than you were expecting!

okay but on a more serious note, this did come out of some late night thoughts, specifically about tsumugi and some thoughts about how she would be post game having survived. my opinion of her has changed drastically since completing v3, from outright hating her to loving her character. she's a character that became interesting and fun to explore, in various settings and ideas and it's fun to see just how she can change. a friend and i have talked/developed a lot about her relationship with saihara and that also played into this idea as well.

anyways! post game/canon tsumugi is fun to play around with since in a lot of ways, danganronpa means the world to her but it also made her lose sight of herself. saying that she can be fully redeemed is a bit of a stretch, but i do think given the chance she would be able to reflect and start over as best as she can. there's a lot of thoughts i have about this girl so who knows? you might see more stuff like this sooner or later from me!

title from nagaku mijikai masturi (long and short festival)

Word Count: 2.1k

[ao3 link]

“Sometimes, I wonder if it was a good thing that I survived.”

It’s said almost conversationally, as if this isn’t something they’ve heard time and time again.

Yet it’s still a thought that crosses her mind every now and again, despite the months (it’s getting close to a year, isn’t it) that it’s been since the game’s end. Since Danganronpa’s end, since the end of her world and everything she’s known. And, what would’ve been her own end, if something had gone differently, if something else had happened during that last execution.

Does Tsumugi Shirogane regret being alive still? Not really, she has to say. She’s alive and that’s better than what would’ve awaited her if Kiibo (bless his robotic heart; despite what she said, he’s something more than the audience’s surrogate. A creation of Team Danganronpa’s design, but a person before all that. How long did it take for her to realize that she has to wonder) had done something different during the destruction of the academy. She’d walked into this game well aware of her fate, and had accepted it. That she would die and her death would just be the beginning of a new, grander season of Danganronpa. That’s all that would’ve mattered, and she would’ve been content with it.

Of course, fate seems to have other plans. Or the outside world seemed to have different plans in store for her. She’s still not quite sure of why she survived, but there’s got to be some reason for it.

Or maybe she’s just deluding herself into thinking there’s a reason she’s still alive. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s tried to do that. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s what happened, and that four survivors made their way out of the rubble instead of three.

She really doesn’t blame the others for not being happy she’s still alive. She’s done horrible things to them after all; to them and everyone involved in this season this killing game. Yet somehow, it’s ended up like this: the four of them are living together, and the three of them don’t really speak to her that much, but it was better than her going off on her own they had rationalized.

They don’t want her trying to crawl her way back to Team Danganronpa or going off and doing something else. She’s still dangerous in their eyes. After all, she’s the big bad mastermind to them and nothing more than that.

(Was she a friend once upon a time? Was she anything to them? It doesn’t matter in the end she supposes, considering how it was all supposed to turn out. It’s hard to plan for much else besides the expected reactions and your eventual death after all.)

Harukawa refuses to speak to her more than necessary. The assassin has made it clear what she thinks of her, and had been the one to suggest that they just leave her alone when they found her. That she should be left to her own devices (or that she was better off dead, after all, having the blood of two of their castmates classmates on her hands directly and everyone else’s indirectly, but no one there was brave enough to say those words that they had all been thinking) but it had been pointed out to her how much more dangerous she could be left alone. So it’s an unspoken agreement that they don’t speak to each other, and whenever they do it’s like pulling out teeth. Their words are tense and harsh, like saying anything remotely kind to each other is physically painful. She doesn’t hold her breath waiting for something different to happen, because what’s the point in waiting for something that will never happen? She’s the one person Harukawa wanted to kill more than anything, and she could do that whenever she wanted to. Tsumugi almost expects to wake up one of these days with a knife to her throat, for Harukawa to just finally do it and put her out of her misery.

(It’ll never come though. Harukawa didn’t want to kill to begin with, considering how her character she was. She wouldn’t become a murderer after all they had been though, which is ironic in so many ways. But maybe it’s because she has two people that still wanted to be around her and that she still cares for. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t want them to see her become a killer again. Maybe it’s something else entirely that she’ll never be able to figure out. Harukawa was never an easy one to nail down after all.)

Yumeno speaks to her more than Harukawa, but it’s still sparing at best. The magician had no strong feelings one way or another towards her it seemed, but she had been sad when it was revealed she was the mastermind. Did she care about her somehow (the thought pulls at her chest tightly, a painful ache - something she didn’t think possible, that someone would care about her when the whole point of her character of who she was that no one needed to care for her) when that’s not what she wanted to happen? She doesn’t know, considering what little time she gets to speak with her. Yumeno had been the one that spoke up about letting her come with them, letting her live and she was grateful for that. Still, she doesn’t dare try to press her luck with her. If Yumeno wants to speak with her, she’ll let her but if she doesn’t want that, then she’ll let her have the space she needs. It’s only fair she thinks.

(Fair to who she has to wonder, considering how much the youngest of their little quartet has suffered. Losing two people she cared about one after the other was hard on her, the sobs after the third trial still echo in her mind sometimes, in those long nights when her dark thoughts aren’t enough to keep her company. Those nights are always the hardest to deal with; the guilt and weight of her thoughts of what she’s done. She wonders if Yumeno has felt something like that, after the third trial, all tired out from crying but still saddened over what happened. What if she had been nicer to Tenko, what if she had been less dependent on Angie and her god, what if she hadn’t chosen the middle room for the séance, all the what ifs of how things could’ve been different. It wouldn’t surprise her if those thoughts had crossed the other girl’s mind at one point or another. But there’s only so much that thinking about what ifs that you can do. You just have to live with what’s happened, there’s no reset button or any spell that can turn back time. The past cannot be changed but the future can.)

Saihara… is an interesting case. The detective should have all the reasons in the world to not want to talk to her, but yet he does. He said nothing when they had found her, had let Harukawa and Yumeno argue about what to do with her, and only spoke up when he thought it was right to. Simply said that it wouldn’t do much harm to them to at least take her along with them. Harukawa had only glared at her, Yumeno had said nothing but there was a silent agreement between them all. And so she had followed them all out of the ruins of the set academy, with barely a word said between them all. He’s the one that was supposed to defeat her, to prove that hope would always win, but he had rejected both hope and despair, and created this ending, the ending that she didn’t expect. The weakest protagonist yet, and still this was how it all ended, because he grew and became more than expected, more than what Tsumugi had written out. She doesn’t know whether she’s proud or resentful for how things turned out in the end.

Yet here they are, a conversation that they’d had so many times before, almost enough that it’s become a routine between them. She wonders if it’s a good thing she’s still alive, that a mastermind is still alive, and Saihara just lets her speak. Let her get out all those thoughts that swirl around inside, words never spoken aloud and just let her speak her piece, before he says something. It’s a dance of sorts, counter and counterpoint, a thesis and antithesis, trial and error. He claims that it’s better that she’s alive than dead, that she can do something more than if she was dead, a chance for forgiveness and repenting. For atonement and punishment.

(It’s not forgiveness that she’s looking for anyways. It’s something that someone like her doesn’t deserve.)

“Don’t we all wonder about that, Shirogane-san?”

Blue eyes widen just a bit, before looking back out through the window in front of them. For the longest time, she was just ‘Shirogane’ to all of them. All forms of honorifics and formalities gone, it’s what she deserved after all. Saihara had been the first to finally start calling her by that again. Saihara had been the one to handle talking to her most of the time, because Harukawa would rather go through another killing game than be kind to her, and Yumeno is too much of a mystery to determine what’s best to call her by.

“I guess that’s fair enough, Saihara-kun. But yet, we’re here aren’t we, despite it all.” I’m here despite it all.

“That we are… but we’re not the same people we were all those months ago, now are we?”

Nine months can do a lot to a person after all. The Tsumugi Shirogane of nine months ago wouldn’t think it possible to be where she is now. Alive, atoning and transforming. She can’t quite undo her past actions, but she can make up for them. Change in a way she didn’t think was possible, and slowly but surely, start moving on from the things she’s been clinging onto for the past few years.

She wouldn’t be trying to stop clinging to Danganronpa if she hadn’t changed in some way after all.

“Yeah…” she trails off, searching for the right words. Saihara had been the one that asked her all those questions before: about her past, her love for fiction, her past love for Danganronpa. All of those questions made her realize how lost she had become, how she lost sight of what she wanted to do all this time.

Where do you go from the peak of your womanhood? What do you do with this age of sensuality that’s no longer in full bloom?

We have no place else to go.

“You’re right, Saihara-kun. We’re changing, slowly but surely.” After all, nine months ago you wouldn’t spare me the time of day.

But maybe, maybe she can find her place here, in this world free of Danganronpa. Maybe she can find out what she wants to do. Find out what good her skills are for, and figure out where to go from this.

A nod. “That we are. And maybe, while we change, we can find our own places in this world. Places we carve out for ourselves, and choices made by ourselves and no one else.”

They’re more than the characters she wrote them out to be. She’s learned that well enough in her time since the game’s ended. Harukawa is more than the cold assassin, Yumeno is more than the lethargic magician and Saihara is more than the weak-willed detective.

And she’s more than the plain jane cosplayer she made herself to be.

“We’re our own people after all. And that means we can decide our own paths, right?”

Amber eyes look at her, before Saihara nods, a small smile on his face, one that she mirrors as well.

Their lives are finally their own, not just actors on a stage with set lines. Real people living their lives as best as they can, with suffering, heartache and trauma woven into them, into their souls. It clings to them (and all the others that came before them) and molds into them like a well-worn sweater - comforting, inviting and familiar, but an itch that no matter how much you scratch at it, will never go away. It aches, aches with emotions that are too much for them all to bear, but bear they must.

It’s the burden they pay to survive, but it’s a burden that helps them or hinders them, it all depends on how they take it. Will this burden weigh them all down, or will it allow them to rise like a phoenix from ashes?

It’s up to them in the end. Them and them alone.

And though some memories may cling and fade over time, that time of theirs will never be forgotten, and their summer will not be let go.

[cautelous]

I want all of the jules brainworms: collection of short stories for All The Manhandling :3c

Manhandling Symbol Starters

Not quite “All The Manhandling”, but most of them. Four are dream sequences! Under the cut for length.

★ - drag my muse by the arm

It isn’t dragging, really. Dragging implies that Julian doesn’t want to follow. He’s just hesitant, really and…

“Are you certain you’re well enough to dance?” he asks as she pulls him out onto the floor.

“Mister Raines,” Caitlyn replies lightly, turning back enough to cock an eyebrow at him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He considers that, just for a moment. Yes, she’s here - a little worse for wear, due to an unfortunate run-in at work, but she’s here. Who’s he to deny her strength? To criticize her judgment?

“You are, aren’t you…” he grins, “In that case, lead the way.”

⁂ - grab my muse by the front of their shirt, possibly shoving them back

It really wasn’t supposed to be an argument. An impassioned debate, maybe! It might still be - Julian does struggle to read Caitlyn, sometimes, even after all these years. (Admittedly, all these years have gone by with very few conversations between the two of them. But he knows her, and she knows him - even if she doesn’t realize it yet. Will she?) So it’s an argument, or maybe just a debate.

She’s grabbed at the front of his shirt, yanking him forward slightly. (Intentional? It’s strange, either way, that she is so physical - it doesn’t seem right.) He really should be paying attention to what she’s saying, thinking of a witty response - it’s a debate, it has to be a debate - but all he can really think about is her expression. How if he leaned forward more, leaned down just a little, he could… Oh, he’s tempted. But it really wouldn’t be right. But she’s looking up at him in such a way that he can’t help but think their thoughts are in alignment, and that this argument-debate has all been pretense for-

He finds himself blinking blearily at his alarm clock. Oh. He can’t help but feel disappointed, truthfully, and a little bit embarrassed. The mind really does work in mysterious ways.

But he has to get up and get ready for another day... He waves the dream away and tries to focus on reality.

✱ - take my muse by the hips to carefully move them out of their way

I couldn’t quite figure out how to do this one.

➜ - smack my muse upside the head

Partially filled below in ♭. A little too cruel for my tender heart.

⌧ - grip my muse by the back of the neck

Julian has long hair, and Caitlyn is shorter than him by five inches.

© - put a hand on my muse’s back to steer them somewhere

It’s another wonderful night out, nothing but the winter chill and what little stars can be seen in the city. And Caitlyn, of course, steadily at his side. (Julian’s at hers, more accurately.) They don’t have these little adventures all that often - the dances, after all, are the routine - but when they do…!

It’s her turn to show him around part of the city. He’s been here before, he’ll admit, and knows the area fairly well… but the point is to see it through the eyes of another. Mostly. He can’t help himself from wanting to drift away to a sidestreet, his hand trailing away from hers. (They hadn’t been holding hands, of course. That display would be far too personal for their relationship, as well as Caitlyn in general. But they’d been close.)

She puts a hand on his back, guiding him back to her as she glances over and tsks. “Trying to run off on me, Julian?”

“Oh, never!” he grins, feeling his heart soar. “I just saw something interesting, that’s all.”

✂ - point sternly at a chair and tell my muse to sit down

“Sheriff,” Julian protests, crossing his arms. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Perhaps he’s a little woozy! That’s alright. It’s to be expected. He’s been on his feet for most of the past three days, running around town and teaching and keeping his personal life in order. Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. Maybe he hadn’t gotten that much sleep! Maybe he is, in fact, running mostly off of caffeine. But he’s fine. He’s been through so much worse.

Caitlyn continues to point. “Do not make me ask twice.”

There’s a certain sort of cold steel to her voice that convinces him. So he sits, folding his hands in his lap, and tries to ignore how good it feels to be off his feet. She was right. She’s always right, of course… He sighs. He’ll go straight home after this and probably collapse the instant he locks the door. But for now...

He looks up at her with tired eyes and murmurs a thank you.

✉ - push my muse back down when they try to get out of bed (perhaps involving illness, injury, or sleep deprivation)

He really must be going. He can’t take another sick day, not so soon - this winter has been particularly harsh on him, as he’s gotten sick twice now - so he really must be going. The school needs him. They really can’t be expected to find a substitute on such short notice, so he just needs to get up and-

Ah. That’s Caitlyn. He blinks confusedly, once-twice-thrice, and looks down at the hand on his chest as it pushes him back into bed.

“Dear…” he protests, but it comes out as more of a whimper. “I’m well enough.”

“Julian,” her tone’s exasperated, but her eyes are fond. “Stay here. I demand it.”

He can’t refuse an order, of course, especially when it comes from his partner. (Girlfriend is a little juvenile, especially considering all that they’ve been through together.) So he lies back down with a mild huff.

She promises to bring him tea, but he can’t quite recall the phrasing she uses, and then he opens his eyes - weren’t they already open?

His bedroom is dark and somewhat cold, due to the winter months. But he can hardly feel the chill at all over the fever that’s gripped him. He shivers, listening for the footsteps of another in his apartment, but there’s only silence.

A dream, then. Gods. He’s in worse shape than he thought. He reaches a shaky hand for his hexphone and makes the call. He can’t come in today. The secretary agrees that he sounds miserable and wishes him well. He ends the call and stares up at the ceiling.

Then he flips his pillow to the cool side, curls in on himself, and tries to recapture that dream of his.

☛ - press a finger to my muse’s lips to shut them up

“I really didn’t expect him to react so poorly - truly, Sheriff, I-”

Caitlyn pushes a finger to his lips. The shock of it alone is enough to shut Julian up.

“Be quiet, just for a moment?” she asks tiredly, adjusting the ice pack against his face.

They’ve already cleaned up the worst of it. He’d staunchly refused a hospital - he’s never liked the places, really, and he likes them even less when he’s the one injured - and so here they are. His face will heal up fine, he’s sure.

As for the present, though, he’s feeling more than a bit punch-drunk. Does that make this like being splashed with cold water, then, for the sake of sobering up? No, the simile’s too strained. Surely he can think of something, though, even though he’s an artist and not a poet… Well, aren’t poets artists? He frowns. It hurts.

She really does look beautiful, even when upset. It’s a gift. He should tell her that sometime. Later, though, in the future where she’s found him out and can appreciate all of him… He half-closes his eyes and sighs at the thought.

When had she taken her finger away? It’s probably for the best. What’s she saying?

“-keep yourself awake for the next few hours, at the very least.”

Is he allowed to speak again? Presumably. “Of course, Sheriff.”

♚ - put a hand on my muse’s knee while sitting next to them, to discourage them from standing up

Julian does a remarkably good job at not looking down at her hand on his knee. Why? He’d only been going to get up for just a moment, after all, so why…

He follows her gaze across the bar, his own alighting on two men deep in conversation. That’s where she’s been looking all night. There’s a flutter of jealousy in his chest before he realizes why.

They’re perfectly Piltovian. Pinstripes and all. So perfect, in fact, that there isn’t a shred of individuality about them! She didn’t - ah, but she did. He feels like laughing. He’s always been a part of her work, and now Julian Raines is as well! He waits a few more seconds, holding his expression as puzzled, before turning to her. Can’t have himself realizing things too quickly, after all, or she’ll have to suspend too much disbelief.

“Caitlyn,” he chides quietly. Now’s not the time for ‘Sheriff’, clearly. “Here I was, thinking you liked the place for its atmosphere.”

She glances over, quickly, and reads his face in an instant. They’re on the same page. Aren’t they always? “I like it for its people.”

“Well, I’ll stay put until otherwise noted.”

♧ - slap my muse’s hand away from something they shouldn’t touch

“Sheriff!”

Julian understands, admittedly, that he was out of line. Someone’s weapon is something very personal to them - he has little personal experience in that regard, but plenty of observation - and hextech itself is personal by design. Her mother had made that rifle for her, and it and Caitlyn have had a long career.

Including nearly shooting him down in Demacia, but she really wouldn’t like to know that particular fact! So he just takes a step back and looks apologetic. She’s speaking on hextech and its dangers (he knows, he’s stolen some) and the unacceptability of his actions. He waits for her to finish.

“I’m sorry. My curiosity got the better of me…” which is true enough, although perhaps for a different reason than she assumes. “But you don’t want to hear excuses, I imagine. I really am sorry.”

She nods curtly, accepting his apology, and they move the conversation away from hextech and weaponry even as they stay near the rifle. He has to wonder what would have happened, if he’d reached out just a little faster or if she’d been just a little slower.

Nothing good, presumably.

♦ - grab my muse’s hair and yank

Julian doesn’t like people messing with his hair, especially like this. Pass!

♤ - slam a door shut before my muse can leave the room

He’s caught. Damn.

It isn’t supposed to be now, not when he’s playing the part of an eccentric art teacher. It’s not right. Everything’s unfinished. But she’s found him out, clearly, and unless he can bluff his way out… he can’t really imagine a way that this doesn’t end poorly.

It’s really all his own fault.

“Julian,” Caitlyn says flatly, and that’s not what he expected. Why not his sobriquet, unless…?

He turns to face her, expression a mix of fearful and confused. But there’s hope, too, buried beneath it all. “Yes, Sheriff?”

“Waverly Tower is not open to the public,” she continues, and he feels like laughing from relief.

“No, it isn’t.”

“And yet you have climbed it for your art.”

He lets surprise play across his face, takes a few moments to seem as if he’s steadying himself. “There’s no hiding from you, is there… Should I be expecting a misdemeanor charge?”

She thinks over it - he knows that she’s weighing the pros and cons, weighing his reaction and their friendship and her credos. Then she comes to her verdict.

“No. But I do expect it to not happen again, Mister Raines.”

He feels like beaming, but settles for a humble nod. The slammed door is forgotten… Had she expected him to run? Oh, not for something as minor as this.

“Of course, Sheriff.”

♞ - physically pick my muse up and carry them

This is ridiculous. The Sheriff is shorter than him by several inches, and lighter as well. There is absolutely no reason that she should be able to pick him up with this much ease.

...It is ridiculous, but he’s not one to complain. Julian shifts, ever-so-slightly, to look at her.

“You know, Sheriff, I’m usually the one doing the lifting,” he remarks, chuckling. “If you were feeling left out, you could have asked!”

He has no doubt that she’s capable, considering the fact that she hasn’t dropped him yet, but… Well. She really shouldn’t strain herself, and he wasn’t expecting to be picked up at the moment, and…

“I’d like if you could put me down now, however.”

♭ - grip my muse’s jaw to make them look yours in the eye

Her fingers feel like cold steel around his jaw, wrenching it towards her. Brown eyes meet blue. The earth and the sky. Gods, no, now isn’t the time for metaphor.

The Sheriff’s voice is low and hard. “Think carefully about what you are claiming, Mister Raines.”

It’s not a claim. It’s the truth, one of the few truths he has. “...Sheriff, I can tell you every detail.”

It isn’t supposed to end like this, no, it’s not- it’s supposed to be endless chases until there’s nothing left to steal, lifetime after lifetime- it’s supposed to be love and dances and- but it can’t be, it can’t be. He can’t bring himself to lie to her for a moment longer.

She slaps him with the back of her hand, something cool-burning dispassionate-passionate cruel-deserved, and he wakes from the nightmare with a strangled scream.

♨ - rub my muse down with a sponge/wet cloth 

Julian short-circuited when I showed him this prompt, so it’s not happening.

☀ - pin my muse with their arms behind their back

He doesn’t resist. The game is up. Fifteen years, leading to… leading to… well, it doesn’t really matter how he feels about it. This is her victory. He’s happy for the Sheriff, even if his thoughts are so loud that he can hardly hear her words.

“Ambrose Julian Marchand-” no, no that’s not right that’s not the right name, “-you are under arrest.”

This can’t be real. It has to be a dream. She wouldn’t be so cruel, would she? Does he deserve it? He must. He can’t see how he’s hurt her, though, unless the chase itself was the cause, but that makes no sense. He doesn’t understand. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go-

He feels the cuffs snap around his wrists. Cold, cold metal. His mind stops its racing.

It’s all over.

...Isn’t it?

☠ - slam my muse into a wall

No :(

☾ - wrestle/pin my muse to the ground

He short-circuited again.