#but it'd be such an undertaking to try get to that point with her. and not very fair or pleasant for the other person

[ariveth]

constantly torn between wanting ariveth to eventually open up and find true love, and also not wanting anybody to be put through the sort of hell that would entail 🤔🤔🤔

[millenniumfae]

so my white co-worker was complaining about her (community college) field trip last weekend:

for lunch, her school had catered from a Thai restaurant. usually, if a university/school/workplace was covering pack lunches, they'd do sandwiches from Panera, or pasta from Olive Garden, or maaaybe burritos from Chipotle.

Her: I didn't even know the difference between the offered options. I ended up grabbing this weird, peanut-buttery, spicy noodle dish.

this was the most foreign she'd ever ventured with her food. i pointed out that her lunch didn't sound weird to me in the least, and she responded;

Her: So you'd intentionally serve foreign food to a bunch of people, not knowing if they'd like it or not, and it'd be their fault if they happened to find it weird or gross?

me, who grew up eating my homeland's food at home, and then American 'foreign food' every day at school? me, who mostly made friends with other Asian kids, so their parents fed me Vietnamese/Laotian/Burmese/Chinese/Sakha/Turkish food whenever i played over? me, who grew up in an international graduate student housing complex, so potlucks and gifts and Halloween and birthdays were a toss-up between Indian, Trinidadian, Ivorian, Russian, Ashkenazi Jewish, Norwegian, etc and so forth?

i told her that the majority of Americans are very much used to eating food from multiple cultures, especially us younger generations. we grew up eating from multiple cultures every single day, staring blankly every time someone told us that mac-and-cheese is a 'universally loved dish'.

it's fine to have food preferences. like, i personally hate asparagus and pineapple, and i prefer dry thin rice over the wetter, short-grain ones.

but never have i considered any deviation from my cultural cuisine be a huge undertaking. so what that a catered lunch was pad thai instead of turkey sandwiches? so what you came over to someone's house and they dare serve you pig ears instead of meatloaf? so what it's Japanese buckwheat noodles instead of spaghetti? so what you're handed a bowl of rice instead of a slice of bread?

and it's fine if that'd be a huge culinary leap for you. but don't try to convince me that it's humanity's "normal" to expect only (these) cuisines and not (those) at any given time.

(and don't get me started on how many times i'd recommend the mango-dragonfruit refresher to customers, only to be given an awkward smile and a "no thanks, i've never tried mango or dragonfruit".)

[mosylufanfic]

I have a rebelcaptain prompt for you (i was thinking modern au, but whatever catches your fancy:

Cassian is planning on proposing, and he’s getting a bunch of tips from all kinds of people. Most people say to get her a ring, preferably with diamonds, either one big ass one or several, but he knows that’s not right for her. He ends up finding something that most people wouldn’t think of as “appropriate” (for example a knife of a type of less valuable mineral.

The moment I read this prompt, I remembered my Valentine's story from a few years ago. So this is a sequel.

Send me a prompt for NaNo!

It's About the Bling

Cassian swiped through the website, frowning to himself.

"What are you looking at?"

He jumped and scrambled to switch off his phone. "Nothing."

His friend narrowed his eyes, setting their coffees down on the table between them. "That is impossible. You were looking at something." He narrowed his eyes further. "Something that you don't want me to know about. Is this a - " He looked disdainful. "A surprise for me?"

"I know better," Cassian said. Kay didn't take well to surprises or big changes. Or unexpected news. Or mild inconveniences. "It has nothing to do with you."

"That's exactly the subterfuge you would undertake if you were planning a surprise."

He grimaced. He'd probably better come clean right now or Kay might never speak to him again when he did find out. "Okay," he sighed, holding the phone out. "This is what I was looking at."

Kay surveyed the screen. "You don't wear jewelry," he said. "Especially not rings. And these look very expensive. Why were you looking at them?"

"Really?" Cassian said.

"Yes, really, why were you looking at them?"

"Kay," he said. "Kay, I'm, uh, I'm planning to propose. To Jyn," he added, as if Kay might think he wanted to marry anybody other than his adored girlfriend of three years, who lived with him, and who had a semi-serious ongoing war with Kay. 

Kay was silent for several seconds, then handed his phone back. "Today was going so well."

-

Kes was much more excited for him. "That's amazing, man! It's about time!" He pounded him on the back. "Wait til I tell Shara! Oh, should I keep this a secret?"

"Why?"

"Well, Shara and Jyn go to the same kickboxing class. But she can keep her lips zipped if she has to."

"What, you think Jyn doesn't know?"

"Um?" Kes scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah?"

"We've talked about it," Cassian said. "I wasn't even sure she was up for marriage. But she says as long as it's to me, she's in."

Kes looked disappointed. "So you basically already proposed."

"Not really. I mean, it's not official."

"Man, you really have no idea about romance."

"Just because I'm not booking a mariachi band and a glitter cannon for my proposal."

"Took me days to get that shit out of my hair," Kes said cheerfully. "But she was surprised."

"Glitter cannons aren't really Jyn," Cassian said. He wasn't a hundred percent sure it was Shara, either, but whatever, she'd married Kes. Clearly it had worked. 

"Please tell me you're at least getting her a decent ring."

"Well, I'm trying."

-

"Mmm," Bodhi said. "Hmmm. Hunh."

Jyn put one of his couch pillows over her face. "They're all glittery," she said.

"I mean," he said. "They're nice." He was scrolling through the email that Cassian had sent to Jyn, with different rings he'd found. 

"I don't do glittery!"

"I know you don't, but this is going to be your engagement ring."

"Right. That I've got to wear. All day."

"Your entire life," Bodhi said.

"Fuck," Jyn said.

 "Hey." He tossed her phone aside. "You okay about this? You never really wanted to get married."

"I know, but it's Cassian. It wouldn't be like being married. It'd just be us. Together. You know?"

"Yeah, that's what being married is," Bodhi said. "Just you, together. With a whole legal component."

"No, I mean, I never wanted to be someone's little wifey, making casseroles and shit. How's your day, here's your slippers and your newspaper. A house in the burbs. White picket fence. A dog and two-point-five kids."

"I think you've watched way too many old sitcoms," Bodhi said. "You know it's not 1956, right?"

"Right, yeah, I know, but my point is, Cassian wouldn't want that anyway. So I'm not, uh, like  - "

"Scared?" Bodhi suggested.

She bared her teeth at him, which was how he knew he was right. "I want to be married to him," she said, picking up the phone and looking at the screenful of glitter and bling with a resigned expression. "I just have to get through all the wedding shit first."

-

"Did you get my email?" Cassian asked that night as they were putting dinner together.

"Yeah," she said, focusing hard on the carrots that she was slicing into perfect round coins. 

He was teaching her how to cook, because the last time it had been her turn to cook at the firehouse, all the others on shift had dialed out for pizza without even letting her try. Which was a little insulting. But maybe what she deserved, considering she'd had to take a fire extinguisher to her last attempt at dinner, and she was still weathering the teasing from that. 

"And," he prompted. "What did you think?"

Jyn swerved her thoughts from finding fire extinguishers in her locker to the ring pictures Cassian had sent her. "I - they, uh - "

He switched off the burner under the sauce and turned to her. "Jyn."

Faced with his stupid big brown eyes, she folded. "I hated them," she groaned. "I'm sorry. I know you must have spent hours picking those out. But they're just - they weren't - "

"You," he said. "They weren't you."

"No."

He rubbed his hand over his face. "I knew that," he admitted. "But Kes was all like, you need a rock, you need bling, she's gonna want to show it off."

"A rock would cut my gloves up," she said. "Although, you know Cinta? The one in my EMT classes? She puts her engagement ring on a chain. So that's not completely a no-go."

"Do you really want a rock?"

"No," she said. "Not those. And they were so expensive. We can't afford that."

"Well, those places are set up with payment plans," he said. 

"Great. So you can still be paying off my engagement ring when we're eighty and feeding each other applesauce."

He kissed her forehead. "You'll be very sexy eating applesauce." 

"Perv." She flipped him off and went back to slicing carrots. "Just find me something simple. That's all. And less blingy. And not that expensive."

"So, something small and cheap," he mused. "Where's the nearest gumball machine?"

She threw a carrot at him.

-

He was still teasing her about it when they visited the sweets shop on the corner, their next mutual day off. "Look," he said, fishing around the bin of Ring Pops that Chirrut insisted on having for the children. "Green or purple?"

Baze looked disgusted. "Since when do you eat solidified corn syrup?"

"Since always, but not here. He's making fun of me." She leaned on the counter, squinting at his hand. "Here, Baze, lemme see your ring."

He held out his hand. It was a simple platinum ring without outward decoration, but she knew from listening to Chirrut tell the story that it had the date they'd met carved on the inside. It was thick and plain and secretly sentimental, just like Baze. "Why the sudden interest?" he asked.

"Oh, well, uh - " She shrugged. "You know. We're planning on it." She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. "Me and this idiot here."

He smiled, slow and quiet, and covered her hand with his. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you. Both of you," he added as Cassian came up, looping his arm around her from behind.

"Thank you," he said, kissing Jyn's cheek. 

She blinked against sudden tears. "Thanks. Um. What'd you do? You and Chirrut."

"For this? Ordered it."

"No, did you have an engagement ring or something?" How did that work? 

"We got married as soon as we could. We knew we belonged to each other. Who else matters?"

-

The thing was, Jyn did want something to mark her engagement. Maybe for Chirrut and Baze, just knowing had been fine. But she wanted something she could look at and touch and think, yeah, he gave that to me and I'm his and he's mine. 

But nothing they looked at seemed to fit. 

Solitaires and channel set and plain. Diamonds and emeralds and rubies. Nothing looked like anything she could wear for a lifetime. And so fucking expensive. Even when they looked for rings that didn't have anything to do with weddings or engagements, it all seemed marked up to the moon. 

"There's a gem and mineral show coming to town," Cassian suggested after one particularly tense browsing session. "Why don't we just go look?"

"You know what happened at the jewelry store," she muttered. They'd been asked, nicely but very firmly, never to come back. Fine by her. 

"I've worked security for the show before," Cassian said. "Nobody's on commission and it's a lot cheaper. Come on. We don't have to pick anything. Just look at things and figure out if anything looks even close to what you want."

"Fine," she sighed.

-

Parking at the convention center was a nightmare, and Jyn was ready to commit homicide by the time she walked in. But it definitely wasn't the jewelry store, with its bright lights and rows of glass cases, and the salesgirls with shiny white teeth and too much perfume not-very-subtly suggesting that carat size equated to how much Cassian loved her. 

This was more like a bazaar, crammed with people, booth after booth with something different everywhere you looked. Strands of beads and costume jewelry and giant hunks of rocks and rock-hound supplies and - 

"Meteorites," she breathed, stopping dead at a booth. "Really meteorites?"

"Got 'em on the Aldhani Plain in Antarctica. A lot of meteorites are harvested there because - "

"You can see them on the snow," she finished, reaching for one. 

"That one'll run you about three hundred dollars."

She curled her fingers into her palm again. "Shit, that's a lot."

"For that size and quality? I could get twice that online, but it's a special show price. We've got some smaller ones over here."

She hovered over the display, looking at meteorites that looked almost lacy, and others melted to smoothness by the heat of them screaming through the atmosphere, and others with blobs of different minerals polka-dotting their surface. 

"Hey," Cassian said. 

She didn't ask how he'd found her. He always seemed to find her. "Look at this," she said gleefully. "It came from fucking outer space. Cruised the solar system and then burned through the atmosphere. Millions of miles of stardust before it landed here for a bunch of apes in clothes to gawk at it."

"That's really cool," he said. 

"Look, this one's magnetic."

He smiled at her, then caught the booth owner's eye. "You got any jewelry?" 

She looked up. He mouthed, Just look, at her. 

"Sure," said the booth owner. "Pendants? Rings?"

"Rings."

He pulled out a tray. They were closer to what Jyn wanted. Simple, not expensive. Nothing that jumped up and down yelling her name, but closer. "Some nice ones here. What's your ring size?" he asked Cassian.

"Not me," he said. "Her."

"Oh, well, here's the ones for ladies." The owner pulled out another tray, this one with a locking glass lid. These rings were smaller, but considerably blingier, diamonds and colored stones glittering with blackish-grey meteorite accents set in the bands. 

"Oh," Jyn said. "Uh. Not those." She smiled tightly.

"We've got some simpler designs up on this row - "

She barely glanced at them. "Nah. I'm good."

"I could do a commission - "

"Let's go." She grabbed Cassian's hand. 

"Hey," he said when they were a few steps away. "Wait a minute."

"Sorry," she said, looking at his shirtfront. 

He pushed her hair out of her eyes. "You liked those meteorites. I thought - "

She shook her head. "They weren't right. Nothing's right."

He paused for a long moment. The babble of the gem show filled her ears. "Do you even want a ring?"

Her eyes shot to his. "You know I want to marry you." Did he think she was chickening out? Trying to softball her way out of forever with him?

"And I want to marry you," he said, intensely patient. Fuck, she didn't deserve this man. "Does it have to be a ring for our engagement? Can it be something else?"

She blinked at him. Rings equaled engagement. Everyone knew that. What else could - "Like what?"

He wove his fingers through hers. "Let's go look."

-

"Well," Kay said in the tones of a man who'd been carefully coached and possibly threatened. "It is unique."

"Yup," Jyn said happily, letting the pendant on its silver chain drop back to her chest. They'd decided to throw a barbeque as an engagement party and their tiny backyard was crammed with what felt like everyone they knew. 

"I mean," Bodhi said, intensely fair, "a meteorite necklace. It's really you, Jyn."

"Pallasite," she said. "Came screaming through the atmosphere, and it melted and reformed into a bunch of olivine crystals embedded in solid metal. Cassian, show them yours."

He fished his pendant out of his shirt. It was slightly bigger, and a different shape. But it matched Jyn's. 

"So you," Kes said. "You both bought an engagement . . . pendant? For yourselves?"

"I bought hers and she bought mine," Cassian said. "And we've asked the guy to make the wedding rings. Gold with embedded meteorite."

"And you proposed right there. In front of the meteorites."

"People clapped," Jyn said. "There's a video somewhere online."

"I don't get you."

"What's not to get?" his wife asked him. "You got me bling because I love bling." She fluttered her fingers at him and her engagement ring glittered. "Jyn and Cassian are like the definition of alternative."

"I've just never heard of a guy wearing an engagement necklace, that's all."

Chirrut said, "Baze, remember our old friends Rex and Cody? They did that, to mark their union."

Baze said. "1973. Matching pendants with silver and sapphires. Nothing new under the sun, younglings."

"I guess," Kes said. "But - "

"Why should she get all the jewelry?" Cassian said. "Besides, when the light hits it just right - " He held up his pendent to the light and twisted it a few times to different angles.  "Ah." He smiled. "It looks like her eyes."

"Sap," Jyn said, and kissed him. 

FINIS

[charrfie]

are you planning any future pmvs/animatics after the jowee one or is it too soon to say?

Head in my paws after reading this question. Ough. Too many. I have way way too many pmv/amv/animatic ideas it's Bad. Here are some particularly big ones I've been tossing around in my head a lot lately:

Goreblog by 8485 for a cat girls pmv!! Definitely a bigger undertaking... but I associate the song with elle and tilly a LOT and feel it leaves room to illustrate their relationship in a really beautiful way. One of my fave songs by eighty anyways so bonus points. If I don't find the motivation in myself to do that one though I'd at least like to do a snippet from her song something bad and try to convey a similar notion, though it'd likely be a lot more simplistic, short, and elle-focused only

Speaking of elle, the bulldog eyes song letter is an all time fave of mine and a very underrated bulldog eyes song at that imo (who is underrated in general LISTEN TO BULLDOG EYES NOW). I'd really love to use this song as a method of analyzing her relationship with her mother

Flaky has been on my mind a lotttttt this past month or so, way more than usual. I've seen a few people animating something to this alt version of devi's bloodeater lately and think it's something I'd really love to do with flaky eventually! It'd likely be messy with line art/sketches only

These are probably my highest priority? Of course atm I'm holding zero expectations for myself in terms of getting these bigger projects done but I'd really like to some day and they seem genuinely feasible with what I have planned for them

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Closed Casket.

Commissioned by the very lovely @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Demon Brothers/Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 2.4k.

TW: Toxic Relationships, Dehumanization, Codependence, Threats of Violence, Mentions of Death, Implied Imprisonment.

It was a closed-casket funeral.

For such a small detail, it bothered you more than it had any right to. You hadn’t been the one to arrange it, the one to speak to the undertaker and evaluate the damage – that was a responsibility that fell to her fiancé rather than you, a distant cousin, only brought up in conversations about postponed friendships and quickly thinning family trees. You’d done what you could to help, what a last living relative should do to help - paying for flower arrangements, speaking to financial advisors, sorting through her belongs and trying to guess at what might’ve held some sentimental value to someone more present in her life, but you never saw the body. No one ever offered, and you hadn’t known how to ask. She was gone, now, dead and buried, and you'd never gotten to see her, even if everyone who had said that it was probably for the best.

And it probably was. They were probably right. You wouldn’t feel any better, if you had.

And yet, you found it difficult to believe you could feel any worse than you did now, either.

Belphegor was curled around your arm. He had been since you came back from the Human World, slotted against your side, draped over your shoulders, and currently, splayed out on top of you, his face buried in the flesh just above your shoulder blade, his body forcibly tangled with yours in a way that was too awkward to be comfortable for both of you, a sacrifice he seemed more than willing to make on your behalf. You’d tried to shrug him off earlier, when he first decided there was enough space on the smallest loveseat in the common room for his strange, daily ritual, and when that failed, you’d tried to talk him into letting go, into loosening his grip enough for you to slip away when he fell asleep, into relocating to somewhere else, somewhere softer, somewhere with a pillow that could easily replace you when he was too busy tossing and turning to care, but Belphegor had always been so frustratingly picky when it came to where, how, and when he chose to sleep.

He’d chosen you, and he’d chosen like this, and he’d chosen now. There was little you could do to change his mind, after he’d already made it up.

Still, you tried. He wasn’t asleep yet, caught somewhere between permanently half-conscious state and a sleep deep enough to warrant medical concern for most living creatures, supernaturally inclined or otherwise. “Belphie,” You called, gently, pushing the temptation to try more forceful methods into the back of your mind. “Think you pick another spot? Just for today?”

“Can’t.” It was a simple response, his voice heavy with sourceless exhaustion, just as short and just as blunt as it had been the last time you asked. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, honestly. “You were gone. I can’t.”

Your frown deepened. You’d left for a week – nine days, at most. And Belphegor couldn’t have been awake for more than half of that. “That’s not--”

“He was lonely, sweetheart.” It was Asmodeus, this time, as he perched himself on the loveseat’s arm. He wasn’t any better than Belphie, nimble fingertips soon tracing aimless patterns over the side of your neck, the dip of your shoulder, taking up the space he could occupy since the space he’d like to was already in-use. “He’ll get better, in a few days. Once it sinks in that you won't be leaving again.”

You were out of practice. A month ago, you would’ve known better than to respond, than to ask questions to someone who took as much delight in festering doubts as Asmodeus did. A month ago, you would’ve brushed him off and found your way to Purgatory Hall for the rest of the night. But, it wasn’t a month ago, and you were tired. You were still thinking about that casket, and you couldn’t seem to think of much else. “What do you mean?”

“Oh?” There was a pause, a laugh, light and melodic and fluttering. You’d always liked his laugh. You could bring yourself to enjoy it, though, not right now. “No one’s told you, yet?”

“Don’t tease ‘em.” You hadn’t noticed how full the common room had gotten, not until Mammon spoke and you reflexively turned to face the sofa opposite to yours. He was standing, leaning against the back, his hands clasped in a way that’d put his anxiety on display far more transparently than his voice ever could. Beelzebub, too, his arms crossed over his chest as his attention shifted idly between you, the console in Leviathan’s hands, and the book splayed out in Satan's lap, his scowl serving as evidence of his annoyance. It always bothered you, how easily he grew frustrated by situations he chose to put himself in. It bothered you a little more, today. “Might as well spit it out, if you’re going to bring it up,” Mammon went on, shifting his weight, letting his eyes fall to the floor, then rise to the ceiling, then drift back to you. “There’s no point putting it off.”

“Weren’t you supposed to tell them, Mammon?” Beelzebub chimed in, absent-mindedly. If it'd been Satan, if it'd been Lucifer, it would’ve been pointed, malicious, purposeful. Beelzebub just sounded like he was trying to remind his older brother of something he’d forgotten. “You said you should be the one to do it, since you met them first. Then, when Lucifer said you wouldn’t be able to do it, you said that if the human threw a tantrum, you could just--”

“I didn’t say shit.” Mammon cut him off, his tone hostile, but it was a half-hearted anger, more petty than vengeful. “I said I could, not that I would, and Lucifer shot me down. If he hadn’t, there’d already be a deadbolt on every fucking door in the house. We wouldn’t be sitting around, talkin’ about it.”

“Every door?” Beelzebub looked confused. Then, he looked concerned. “I thought we agreed to just seal the exits.”

“I still think we should just use their bedroom,” Leviathan chimed in, never looking up from his hand-held. Something tightened in the back of your throat. Experimentally, you tried to pull yourself out of Belphegor’s arms, but he only held you tighter, and Asmodeus’ nails dug into your shoulder, rooting you back into place without a single word. “It’d be cool, kinda like a permanent save-point. We wouldn’t have to worry about baby-proofing the entire house, either.”

“We could use a leash,” Asmodeus suggested, never breaking his stare. He didn’t look away. You wished he would. You wished they’d, if nothing else, have the courtesy to wait until you’d left the room to start talking about things you didn’t know and didn’t want to know. “So we can make sure they’re always close by! Or, we could have Lucifer enchant a collar – having to hold a tether might get in way when I have to--”

“He’d never do it.” It was the first time Satan had cut in, but it was clear he’d been listening. His book was still open, his expression still concentrated, but he was tapping his foot, the disruption soundless against the thick carpeting, and you couldn’t remember the last time he thought to pretend to turn a page. He was listening, but he didn’t want to be. He was a part of this, but you doubted he’d every say as much out loud. You doubted he’d ever let himself admit he’d stooped to that level. “And if he did, we’d never hear the end of it. In a week, there’d probably be a new kennel in the catacombs, right next to Ceberus’.” He stopped, for a moment, shaking his head. For your own sake, your chose to believe the envy lingering behind his voice was his attempt at a bad joke. “You would prefer a bedroom, wouldn’t you, (Y/n)?”

He asked you a question. He was talking to you, now, directly, which was more than you could say for any of his brothers. It should’ve been an improvement. An opportunity, if nothing else, a chance to ask why Asmodeus was looking at you like that, why you could feel Belphegor’s careless smile pressing into your skin, but you hesitated, something catching in your chest. It felt too solid, too heavy, too rough and too jagged. It felt like it’d hurt to swallow down, later on, once the unease passed and you got over whatever scheme they’d planned out, while you were gone.

“I… What?” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say, but it came out as a question regardless, your reluctance blending messily with your confusion. “This isn’t funny. If you’re going to act like this every time I visit the Human World, I might have to stop coming back.”

Finally, Satan glanced up from his book. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said he was smiling. “Right. Because you still think you're allowed to leave.”

The rest of the room fell silent. Or, maybe it didn’t, maybe it was louder than it'd ever been. You didn’t know. You couldn't hear anything, not over the sudden ringing in your ears. “I’ll have to, eventually. It’s not up to me.”

Beelzebub shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’d be safer if you stayed in the Devildom. We can’t protect you in the Human World.”

Leviathan’s grip tightened around his console. In the background, you could hear the plastic shell start to crack. “We wouldn’t be able to see you. Not all the time. Not for more than a few weeks at a time.” He was quiet, for a moment. Then, he added, “It wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t… It wouldn’t feel like it does when you’re here.”

Mammon looked away, letting his head lull to the side. “You belong here, with us. You’re supposed to be here. We’re just doin’ you a favor. No one wants to watch you figure out how fucked you’d be on your own.”

And, finally, Belphegor groaned, exhaustion heavy in the gravely sound. He untangled himself from you, but the freedom was temporary, fleeting, his arms snaking around your waist, instead, his face soon gracelessly buried in your chest. His eyes flickered open, but barely, just enough to let him stare up at you through his eyelashes, a thoughtless grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t divided, not like his brothers were. He didn’t try to pretend he was above holding you against your will. “You're not leaving again.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a threat. It was just a fact, to him. It was something that wouldn’t happen, that couldn’t happen, if only because his older brothers were willing to work so hard to make sure it didn’t. “We’re not gonna share you, anymore. We’re not gonna have to.”

You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to be here, anymore, not if this was what it meant, not if it was going to feel like standing in front of that closed casket all over again, the urge to run and sob and scream silencing every reasonable thought you’d ever had. You didn’t bother trying to talk to Asmodeus and Belphegor, you didn’t bother trying to coo and edge and skirt around their anger, their unspoken threats, not anymore, not when your body was already standing on its own, shoving at Belphegor’s body and swatting at Asmodeus’ hand as he reached out, aiming to cup your cheek and tell you so gently to sit down and shut up. Beelzebub leaned forward, Mammon flinched, and you could’ve sworn you caught a row of long, pointed fangs flash across Satan’s sneer, but you didn’t care. You wanted to hit something. You wanted to yell. You’d wanted to ever since you came back to this damned house and its overly affectionate occupants.

“You don’t get to share me.” You couldn’t be shared. You weren’t theirs to share, even if they already seemed geared against the idea. You weren’t theirs to trap, either. You never would be. “I don’t need your protection, and you don’t need to see me, and the only place I’m supposed to be is the Human World. I don’t know what got into your fucked-up heads while I was gone, but you can’t just--”

“Sit down, (Y/n).”

You stopped mid-sentence.

Right. You’d almost forgotten Lucifer hadn't gotten a chance say his piece, yet.

He didn’t give you time to cooperate. There was already a fist curled around the back of your collar, dragging you back into your seat, the action so much more aggressive than Belphegor’s oppressive dead-weight or Amsodeus’ sweet, sickly temptation. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel Lucifer looming over you, standing tall, towering above his younger brothers as he took control of the room. You wondered if he’d been here the entire time, if he’d heard everything, rather than just your sudden outburst. You wondered if you should hope that he had.

“We missed you, while you were gone.” He didn’t sound mad. He didn’t sound mad, but none of them did, none of them sounded like they were plotting to keep you away from your home, your friends, the life you had outside of demons and angels and magic. None of them sounded dangerous, either, save for Lucifer. He’d always been easier to trust when he wasn’t pretending to be kind. “We’ve all been alive for centuries, and yet, you went and made a week feel like a small eternity. Do you know how difficult it is for a human to inflict that kind of suffering onto a demon?”

You didn’t answer. Across the room, Mammon laughed and Satan bristled. Belphegor melted back into your side, more than happy just to have his resting place scared into immobility.

“You’ll stay.” It was an order, this time. Not a suggestion, not a passing concern, but a command, something you would be expected to obey. He had the nerve to use that low, calm cadence, measured and pre-meditated. He didn’t want to let you convince yourself he was as prone to bluffing as his brothers were. “You’ll stay because we want you to. We’re willing to use force, but there’s no need for that. Is there, love?”

You nodded, your body tense and your eyes glassy, and Lucifer rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a row of knuckles delicately pressed to your cheek. A miserable reward for such an unwilling sacrifice, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. It certainly didn’t stop him from leaning in, his lips brushing against the top of your head, his voice falling just low enough to make something sharp and cold shot down your spine, as he went on.

“It’s not like you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

[mickules]

Ok, but the way Taka’s eyes light up when he discovers flavors and is just like, “what have I been missing out on my whole life?!”

Imagine if Mondo just proceeds to take Taka around to try a bunch of different foods. The looks of wonder and innocence in his eyes is almost enough to cover the hole in Mondo’s wallet

[from this ask] It would absolutely be one of Mondo's favourite things, but soon the class find out, and they all want to get in on getting Taka to try their favourite food.

[one of the minicomics this ask dump] Some have been privy to seeing Taka eat a sub sandwich in 3 bites, and they would not like to repeat the experience.

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Junko was incredibly disappointed when it was discovered Taka is a SPICE FIEND. She has yet to find a food he actively dislikes, and so far no amount of threats from Mondo has made her give up the search.

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Taka doesn't like to dwell on his upbringing as part and parcel of his whole ethos of determination, so wouldn't bring it up voluntarily. Taka tends to unconsciously avoid eating around people so it's a long while before anyone notices his habits, and even longer for them to get him to recognise it as unhealthy and not 'efficient'

Eventually, in frustration, he points out that: "Akane eats like me, does that mean she has unhealthy eating habits too?" to a chorus of blank faces and the gentle explanation of: " . . . Taka . . . Akane's got the worst eating habits" From there it becomes a simple matter for his friends to join the dots between Akane's childhood poverty - Taka's family debt - and their shared defensive eating. When he finds out about Akane's background it does give Taka some piece of mind to know there's someone who understands some of his struggles and lost childhood - Akane and Taka don't always see eye to eye, but they do end up bonding tremendously over it and their efforts to get healthier.

[from this group of asks!] Whilst Byakuya almost definitely has employees to undertake such tasks, I can see a busybody like Taka, only intending to drop off some study notes for Byakuya, inadvertently insinuating himself onto the organisation committee. Taka, completely by accident, ends up with a paid position on Byakuya's staff (since you know Byakuya couldn't just ask for a favour like a normal person)

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Byakuya has an eye for theatrics; imagine the optics! Fellow attendees scoffing at the young, clearly inexperienced heir, I mean look at his woeful choice of guest from that disgraced family! Only to discover that the elaborate evening they've been enjoying was completely organised by said guest, and then seeing that same guest yeet a man twice his size out of the convention hall. That'd definitely add to the notorious Togami reputation.

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Business spokesmen aren't always strictly at business events; they're usually also patrons or donors to societies, charities and political parties, so there's a slew of different events it could be. In fact it'd be even more poignant if it was a political fundraiser, or something of that nature. Since Taka is an unwelcome reminder to his maternal family of their previous failed foray into gaining more political leverage; it's even funnier if Byakuya is actively trying to shove that in their faces.

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Taka can't catch a break - both his grandfathers are pricks. Righteously indignant Taka is excellent, but I have to admit I have a soft spot for bitingly petty Taka, even if it's it's a little out of character for him: "I cannot imagine your embarrassment then Chairman; as it is an Ishimaru who had to remind you to behave in a manner befitting the dignity of your station."

Taka might have a resolve of steel when it comes to remaining civil in difficult negative situations; In positive situations however? He's not as well practiced. . . Or: Taka finds out he rather likes adrenaline really.

He was blinded by his morals and nothing else.

@starlightmedow It's got to be easy to catch some parental feels when it comes to Chihiro. You know Mondo and Taka wouldn't be down for the babying kind - but rather the nurturing, too loud cheering on in the crowd kind. Think the muscle improvement club from Mob Psycho 100

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"One of these things is not like the others ~ one of these things just doesn't bel~ong!" (It's mothman; he's the only cryptid) In all honesty a rabbit works well for Chihiro. Adorable, but when faced off against a predator? Rabbits can be FIERCE!

I like the idea of all the programs interacting with each other! Alter ego as the more experienced and proactive learner helping the others, Chiaki being hesitant but smart and willing, whereas Usami is very enthusiastic but the least knowledgeable. Chihiro watching over all of 'em It's a fun dynamic! (I have to admit I do prefer Chiaki as a completely fabricated AI rather than based on an actual person, which I know is how it ends up shaking out in canon; her slow yet intelligent demeanour reminded me of an old desktop resolutely chugging along)

@starrygatorr aka: Taka is gaslit by a child That certainly sounds like an AU with a lot of juicy potential to it! Taka doesn't seem the sort to be well liked by children due to his strict nature and perma-scowl. He'd be delighted to be approached by any of the children - it's a shame it happened to be the emotionally-manipulative, mini-megalomaniac! That being said, flipping it on its head, Taka's sheer bullheadedness and obliviousness might act as a natural counter-agent to Monaca's stratagem of picking at insecurities, making him someone who doesn't get side-tracked by her normal tactics (but also making Mondo a much more attractive target for her schemes . . .) All in all, there's a lot you can play with there! Noice!

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[from this comic] You know what; Junko pretty much canonically just goes around nicking other people's ideas and smushing them into her killing game anyway! Hell I don't think she even came up with monokuma on her own

"smoothie of ambiguous content" is a true Mukuro mood

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[from this ask again] Mukuro's not one to mince her words after all XD

@spacepaprika The idea of the Ultimate Moral Compass just flat out admitting to a criminal record is unironically hilarious to me - especially given Makoto 'I pissed the bed' Naegi's "dark secret". However I think a criminal record would probably kill any chances he had of becoming Prime Minister. I do have my own idea of what that secret might be, and I plan to put it in a comic . . . 👀 without context - it involves him having been expelled from his middle school *sows seeds of intrigue*

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@darkephantylight191 Mondo never pulled any pranks himself, but he certainly didn't stop anyone else from doing it. He was the most vocal and blatant about breaking the few rules Hope's Peak actually has and basically constantly found himself in Taka's crosshairs, and Taka wouldn't let even the smallest infraction go. Essentially they both riled the other up, sometimes completely intentionally as they'd both assumed the other was exactly the type of person they hated, without actually finding out if that was true or not.

(next set of asks [about daiya’s accident]) (previous set of asks [about the parent trap AU])