#cynical Lily

[practicecourts]

For the fic title game: Is That Even Legal?

hi!! Thanks for this cool title.

Is That Even Legal? 

Lily Evans deals with divorce on a daily basis and after three years working for her current employer she is sure Romance is dead and even the most ardent love affairs are unlikely to last. 

Relationships mean concessions on what to watch and who to invite over to dinner, physical attraction with hot fulfilling sex usually fizzles out faster than you can say ‘when’ and what’s left is usually bad morning breath and awkward conversations about misunderstood hobbies. The only thing that Lily would even want a relationship for, are her family obligations and expectations in the holidays. December is lurking, still weeks away but the prospect of her sister’s wedding, Christmas with both her Mum’s and her Dad’s newest love interest as well as her firm’s obligatory New Year’s Eve’s charity gala are enough to give her migraine.

Still, apart from those few weeks at the end of the year, it’s much better to be happy and single and not have to go through the mess of the inevitable break-up. 

Her latest case is a prime example of why she does not believe in love, her client, Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix nee Black. Not even a year after their fairy tale wedding in both Spain and Britain, the couple files for divorce. She’s only been on their case for less than a week but already knows it’s about to be nothing less than war, a fight about custody and paternity of an unborn heir to a veritable fortune, as well as their many mansions and a yacht worth a few millions. 

The case is a lot, even for her cynical soul. 

In an attempt to forget people like her clients exist as well as the month December, she plans to drink herself to oblivion on Friday night.

Just her luck that there’s already a guy there, halfway to plastered and he looks so sad, that she asks. Even when she never does (she gets enough life stories throughout the week- she does not ask strangers to tell her why their week sucked). Except this time she does. 

James Potter explains he is in the business of finding one’s soulmate, or true love. Nothing quack and no trickery, just a very refined psychological algorithm that he and his mates designed. The love doctors, the name of their company, has a success rate of over 90 % long term happy relationships, but this week he found out one of his clients manipulated and committed fraud in order to secure a match he desired. They found out almost too late and the whole affair has shaken his trust in people and love. 

Lily tells him she can’t really help, because she does not believe in love or relationships anyway, and her daily experience merely add proof to the untrustworthiness of both men and women and well, that they are shits more often than not. 

James and Lily drink to the miserable week they both had, to better times to come, but when James wants to toast to love in difficult places and Lily refuses because there’s no such thing, they end up with a bet. James, with help of the Love Doctors, will find Lily her love match, to bring to a month filled with family obligations, or he will have to suffer to being her date (yes, it’s a win-win for Lily, How is that even Legal ;-)

send me a title and I’ll write a Drabble of what I’d write (something like that)

[quaranmine]

i think the whole cringe is dead, radical sincerity, depth of genuine emotion, earnest effort, and unironic love thing that tumblr has going on the past few years has transformed my outlook on things and changed me for the better. but it does mean that now the people i know irl will give me strange looks for being too sappy or too poetic or too dedicated or too excited about about something because they're still stuck in their "well i only like this ironically" phase. guess that's their problem tho not mine <3

[gejzia-lol]

/ / / - - - FAVORITE AND HATED CARDS IN GACHA D4DJ - - - / / /

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These cards can fall to you in the game ABSOLUTELY at ANY time, because they are NOT LIMITED. Let's enjoy the beauty of these card sets!

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THANKS YOUR FOR WATCHING! have a great day !!!

credit post desing : gejzia-lol / (´,,•ω•,,)♡

[snooziangel]

song correlation...!!

Kavehtham x cynical one REAL!!!!!!! i <3 angst

Verse one

I like looking at your eyes

Playing piano

And staring out your window

In the middle of the night

From your house on the hill

I was hoping

Hoping that you wouldn't forget me

But I know you will

This song is from Alhaitham’s point of view. The instruments are soft, classical, raw. He’s a practical guy, not really fond of people, but he does treat Kaveh differently. He jokes and butts heads with him, and allows them to share a home because Kaveh didn’t have enough money. 

He knows Kaveh will someday leave, and that their relationship will be gone. And while they had their falling out, Alhaitham wanted Kaveh to remember him. And he did, many years later when asking if he could stay in the house he had. 

Alhaitham definitely doesn’t play the piano in canon, but I could totally see him doing so. He also analyzed Kaveh, calling him his ‘mirror’, so of course he has probably stared at Kaveh’s eyes too. 

Verse two

So don't go around saying

There's no such thing as love

You can't go trading places

Don't forget that I

I am the cynical one

Alhaitham knows Kaveh is smart, but emotionally driven. So Kaveh going around and blabbering about how his own heart broke, and how love isn’t real, really isn’t far off. Alhaitham gets annoyed at him saying that is because he doesn’t know how to reach out and how to actually put forth his own feelings. 

Kaveh goes to trade places, or to replace himself from Alhaitham’s life, and of course the other doesn’t agree. Alhaitham is stubborn, and doesn’t think he can easily replace that spot he left. The spot is a perfect match, mold, and fit of Kaveh, permanently left with Alhaitham. He doesn’t want to leave him behind.

Precorus 

Wine and roses are fine

But I like the harder stuff

And I can still remember

When too much

Too much was never enough

Alhaitham doesn’t mind having romantic dates, but would rather sit and live life around each other. To embrace the emotions Kaveh gives; sobbing, laughing, quiet, focused, soft, numb. Alhaitham would accept any and every emotion Kaveh lets him see and experience. 

Kaveh expects too much, being greedy. He wishes to get, with no giving. Alhaitham obviously would get tired of this, but loves the idea of Kaveh with him. So, he keeps giving with nothing in return. 

Ending Verse

Don't forget that I

I am the cynical one

Don't forget that I

I am the cynical one

Don't forget that I

I am the cynical one

Alhaitham doesn’t know how to cope with actually finally losing Kaveh to them not being compatible. He’s the head-strong, brutally honest, cold, and emotionless one, not the one to feel something that makes him hurt. Alhaitham wishes he wasn’t as attached, and let himself get too close to feel more than he wished too.

Kaveh broke his heart, and Alhaitham wishes he could blame the emotions on himself, and not the man that hurt him.

[mana-kase]

oooo u wanna join the d4dj community on tunglr oooo

[randomidiocyncrazies]

I do wonder why Lily is the resistance leader instead of Anemone in the anime—in preparation for some other twist exclusive to the anime? Examine the Yorha and Resistance relationship through another lens? (Lily was more mistrustful than Anemone, and more overtly bitter at Command/Yorha iirc). Lily is younger/more inexperienced, so the growth of her as the resistance leader in present day is more dramatic I guess?

(I really liked Anemone, so I am a bit sad that she died in the anime timeline instead)

(Unless... she survived???)

[writing-for-marvel]

A Solid Foundation

Builder!Bucky Barnes x Fiancé!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend suspects your fiancé of having an affair when he starts working late, but Bucky would never cheat on you, right?

Warnings: slight angst - discussion of Bucky potentially cheating (no actual cheating), soft fluff

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: thank you so much for this gorgeous inspiration my love 💕 this is my second entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, for the prompt ‘Modern AU’. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

“Where’s Bucky? You two just got engaged, I would have thought he’d barely be able to keep his hands off you - he does at the best of times.” Nat jokes before taking a sip of her wine.

She had been stopping off at your apartment on her way home to drop some supplies for your engagement party next weekend, when you invited her to stay for a drink, wanting to take your mind off your fiancés absence.

“He’s been working late recently.” You try to say nonchalantly, but Nat’s far too observant to miss the disheartened edge to your voice.

“He’s a builder. Start early, finish early, what’s he doing still working at 6:30?” You didn’t know the answer to that question. And though part of you is curious as to what he’s up to, you’re also nervous to find out the truth.

It’s Bucky, the man who has loved you through every high and low, treasured every part of you, especially on those days where your insecurities were at their worst. Who has done the silliest, most embarrassing things just to hear your laugh. Who trusted you enough to reveal his deepest trauma, who comes to your arms for comfort through every nightmare.

You find it difficult to believe that man would be capable of hurting you, even knowing he hadn’t been completely forthcoming with you the past few weeks.

“I’m not sure, he’s been a little secretive since we got engaged. I don’t wanna push him to talk about it, I just wish he knew he can trust me with whatever it is.” You say as Nat supportively takes your hand, something of sympathy in her eyes.

“Oh sweetie, you are far too pure for this world. Working late, the ring, the secrecy - has it crossed your mind that he might be having an affair?”

“It crossed my mind for half a second before I scolded myself. It’s Bucky, he would never cheat on me.” You state with conviction, the memory of each night you’ve fallen to a peaceful sleep in Bucky’s arms only supporting your belief that he would never put himself in that position with someone else.

“As much as I want to believe you, you know I’m a cynic. In my experience men are pigs, you give them an inch and they take a mile. I know he’s sweet and you love him, but at the end of the day, he is a man.”

But Nat doesn’t know Bucky intimately like you do, hasn’t experienced his selfless and generous heart day after day for the past two years, hasn’t been loved all-encompassingly by him like you have.

You’ve never even thought to question his loyalty to you - Bucky has never given you reason to.

You hear keys rattle in the front door and shoot Nat a look which unquestionably screams don’t bring this up.

Bucky smiles instantly when he sees you seated at the dining table, that same adoration and serenity brimming in his eyes as when he always comes home to you. Though you do notice his skin is somewhat flushed, as if he’s just been physically exerting himself, his hair looks a complete mess and appears slightly darker with sweat.

You know exactly what’s running through Nat’s mind at this very moment.

“I’m gonna let you two talk.” She declares with a perceptible tension in her tone as she stands and grabs her purse. “But I swear if you ever hurt her Bucko, you’ll die a slow, painful death.” She vows with a glare that seals her promise. Though you know Nat well enough to perceive she isn’t joking, Bucky seems to think she’s kidding.

“Duly noted Nattie.” He chuckles as he watches Nat shoot you an encouraging look and then make her way out the front door Bucky just walked through. “What was that all about?”

“She’s just being protective.” You justify, not knowing how to, nor really wanting to tell him that your best friend suspects he’s having an affair. “I told her you’d been working late recently.”

“What… she thinks I should instead be here doting on you hand and foot?” Bucky asks as he moves behind where you’re seated, his hands reach for the back of your neck and begin massaging the tension from your shoulders which had built up from your long week at work. “You know I’d much prefer to be here with you than working.” You shudder slightly at his words as he places a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck curves into your shoulder, your body subconsciously revealing that you don’t fully believe he was working.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, feeling your muscles tense even further underneath his hands, and you internally curse yourself for letting Nat’s speculation get under your skin.

“Where were you tonight?” It’s a simple, four word question, yet the weight of significance on his answer feels like your whole world could start crumbling before you depending on his response.

“I told you this morning: Steve needed me working late.” Bucky replies without hesitation. It’s a straightforward answer, yet there’s something about it you can’t quite believe - a half truth that he’s practised too much that doesn’t quite feel natural. “Why do you ask?” There’s a hint of worry to his voice, as if you’re getting a little too close to something he’d like to keep to himself.

“Nat thinks ‘working late’ is code for you cheating on me.” You comment, placing all the blame on your friends postulation rather than your own curiosity.

You hope Bucky won’t hate you too much for indulging in your friends theory, that he won’t completely resent you for insinuating he’s been unfaithful. Because you don’t think he’s cheating on you, but you also don’t believe he was working late tonight.

Instead, Bucky steps towards you and tentatively places two gentle fingers under your chin, tilting your face so that you’re gazing directly into his vulnerable, sincere eyes.

“Doll, you know I would never, ever, hurt you like that. I love you, you’re my whole world, I wanna marry you and spend the rest of my days making you feel as loved and cherished as you make me feel.” You sense the heaviness of your engagement ring on your left hand, you’re still getting used to carrying the small weight of it around with you everyday, though right now it feels substantial.

“I know you wouldn’t Buck, but since you proposed you’ve been a little secretive. Long days, working weekends. I mean you have to admit it’s slightly suspicious.”

He sighs, coming to some sort of internal decision when his gaze meets yours again. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you in an attempt to distract you from the topic of discussion.

“I promise you, I can explain everything, but I think it would be easier to show you.” His hands snake down your arms and when he takes both your hands, pulls you from your seated position at the dining table.

“Show me?” You query, having no idea what that could indicate he’s been keeping to himself.

“Yeah, care for a drive?”

* * *

The night is dark as you sit in the passenger seat watching the world pass you by, the empty roads only lit by periodically placed street lamps and the bright headlights of Bucky’s truck.

You have no idea where he’s taking you - you’ve never been to this part of town before and have no preconceived ideas as to what being here indicates for his unplanned surprise.

Bucky drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other rests comfortingly on your thigh, an indicator that he’s not upset about you insinuating he could be having an affair, and that where he’s taking you to is not a revelation you should be anxious about.

Soon enough he turns down an innocuous street and pulls the car to a slow stop. You're in the middle of a suburban area with expansive blocks of land, stopped a few metres behind an SUV that has stickers of a family of five and a dog on their back window. Looking over at Bucky, you find he’s staring at you with an excited expectancy from the driver's seat.

You turn to look out the car window and the reason Bucky’s been ‘working late’ hits you like a bus.

You’re parked in front of a half built house - at the moment it’s just studs and partitions, with an unemptied skip out the front, but you can see the skeleton of a beautifully spacious two story house.

He’s building you a home.

“Bucky…” You comment under your breath, unable to articulate the swarm of thoughts buzzing around your head and the pure love blooming in your chest like a flower as he rounds the car and opens the passenger door for you.

“I know it doesn’t look like much yet, it’s just the frame and foundation, but soon there will be a roof, walls, windows, and a proper floor. It’ll really start taking shape.” He's nervous, you can tell by his shaky tone of voice, which you find adorable.

“You’re building us a house?” Your stomach contorts with guilt when he smiles crookedly and nods. How could you have ever been suspicious of his long working hours when they were spent building a physical monument to his love for you?

“I wanted to build our dream house, somewhere we can grow old together.” Your heart just about bursts when these words fall from his lips. Though the night is dark, the moon and the small torch Bucky keeps in his truck are the only source of light available, you can see the fondness in his eyes.

You give him a sweet kiss before approaching the house, an outline in chalk on the ground indicates where a front porch will be built and the entry to the house is currently only the rectangular frame of timber.

Bucky starts walking you through the house hand in hand, explaining what he had planned each room to be used for. There's only wooden studs outlining every room and a concrete slab for a floor, but you can already imagine what the space will look like when it’s all complete.

The entry foyer has high ceilings where you can currently see the stars shining, a large winding staircase connects the ground floor with the one above. To one side is a large garage, an offset office and bathroom, to the other has a large sitting room.

As Bucky pulls you further into the structure, the house opens up to a large, open plan living area. You can picture cooking together in the kitchen, room enough for a large island where you can sit and watch as Bucky cooks you breakfast, sneaking kisses in between breaking eggs. A smile grows on your features as you imagine what the future holds for you two, and what you envisage is beautiful.

He shows you where he thinks the lounge room television would go, before steering you to the right to an open room where the walls don’t have horizontal studs like all the other rooms you’ve seen so far.

“And this will be your sunroom.” He comments, eying you with a smile as your jaw drops in awe.

“A sunroom?” You ask as your voice cracks and hot tears well in your eyes.

Your dream house always seemed so far out of reach, you wondered if you would ever earn enough to own a place of your own. But it didn’t stop you from wishing for your dream house. That concept had changed over the years, but the one aspect which remained the same was it containing a sunroom. A place where you could sit in quiet contemplation and read your plethora of novels in peace, the warm afternoon sun heating the room as you draped your legs over beloveds, finding tranquillity together.

Bucky really is making all your dreams come true.

“It wouldn’t be our dream home if we didn’t have the sunroom you always wished for. This entire wall will be a huge built-in bookshelf, then the rest will be just glass, looking out over our backyard and have the perfect view of the setting sun.”

You find yourself completely lost for words, unable to articulate how remarkable this entire house is, that he built it for you, and how you will forever come home to a physical reminder of just how much Bucky loves you.

“If there’s anything you don’t like I’ll change it. I want it to be perfect, I want you to love it.” He says as if he can’t see that you already adore every inch of the house he’s built, thinking that your silence indicates aversion rather than pure amazement.

“Bucky, it’s already perfect.” You lean over to kiss him, slow and sweet, because you need to express the overwhelming gratitude and affection for him doing something so special for you. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you when you were putting in your spare hours to build us a home.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have lied to you about where I was and what I was doing, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” His arms snake around your middle and pull you closer to him so none of the cool night air separates you.

“It is a surprise, such a wonderful surprise. I love you so much and I can’t wait to spend our life together here.” You say, looking up at him with wide eyes, only closing them to kiss the stubble on his sharp jawline.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Bucky places a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but heartfelt and full of tenderness.

For a moment you stay cuddled into his strong, warm chest, his arms gently stroking up and down your back in soothing motions, feeling completely loved and so excited to start your marriage in a new home together.

“Will you show me the bedrooms upstairs?” You ask with a small voice, part of you not wanting to move from Bucky’s embrace, but also intrigued to see how much more work he’s done in the name of love for you.

“Of course, my love.”

He kisses you once more, for emphasis, before guiding you carefully upstairs to show you the spacious master bedroom where you will be spending your first nights as a married couple.

If you're interested in seeing the floorplan I based the house off, you can find that here

[idolomantises]

Favorite character to write and draw in both of your webcomics?

Bugtopia

Favorite Character to Draw: Sorrel. His design is one of my personal favorites and it's really fun drawing certain expressions, especially ones that contrast his cynical personality. he's also the only Bugtopia character who regularly cycles through outfits. He never wears the same thing per episode. I also love the way his big, black moth claws contrast with the softer design.

Favorite Character to Write: Sorrel, Milan and Jasper (though I cant say too much on jasper yet).

Alluded to above, Sorrel is a very cynical person, but he fronts it with a very ditzy and manufactured persona. He's very selfish and can't keep a relationship, but he also has a love for films and art in general. He's also an overly protective big brother. It's also just funny writing his over dramatic moments. If his acting isnt above 110%, he'd rather be dead.

Milan is like... i mean this in the most affectionate way possible, very autistic and anti social. If Sorrel fronts his behavior with pretend friendliness, Milan is straight up hostile. She doesn't have friends, doesn't go to parties and despises her co-workers. I'm a big fan of characters who are clearly internalizing an issue and its fun writing moments where you can see the gears tick in Milan's head where she tries to register certain interactions. She's definitely going to be my most controversial character (I'd say Cale and Spike will be, but people tend to be more forgiving to male characters than female), but it will be fun to see if people are willing to warm up to her. Girl is a hot mess, but she's MY hot mess.

Monsters and Girls

Favorite Character to Draw: Powers, drawing pissed off expressions are my favorite and powers has a resting "i dont wanna be here" look. I also enjoy drawing her armor.

Favorite Character to Write: I know I said on the other account that Sera is my favorite to write for, but it's really a toss up between Powers, Sera and Lili. They're all so weird and wonderful to me. but in terms of the shorter, gag comics, Sera is is my favorite to write for because she's a million years old and still doesn't know what to do with a hot wife who loves her.

Sera, unlike Powers and Lili, kind of shows her whole personality, so she's also easier to write for. Powers and Lili have a lot of barriers they put up, so you actually don't really see the full range of what they're like.

[therealvinelle]

While reading overalt og ingensteds (which I loved it was so hilarious, praise to you and muffin!) a thought came to me

Are Harrys feelings towards James purely filial or is there an...Edward behavior connotation to it?

Thank you for praise! Look, @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin, praise for us!

To answer your question: when @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin and I question Edward's affection for Carlisle, there are several reasons behind it. Enough has been written on the subject, but to tldr the reason for the purposes of comparing to Harry and James:

Edward places great emphasis on Carlisle's physical beauty, bringing it up frequently, even during casual conversation between them

Edward and Carlisle are not actual biological relatives. Edward (a seventeen-year-old, presumably upper middle class or higher boy in 1918) describes having woken up and been instantly taken in by Carlisle, having felt incredibly strong and adoring emotions he interpreted as filial. This is the basis for his understanding of Carlisle as his father.

Edward's relationship with Carlisle is, prior to Bella, the most important thing to him, and when he falls for Bella it is largely the qualities he associates with Carlisle that he admires in her. The exact same words are used, right down to "I am a monster condemned to darkness, Bella/Carlisle is the Light™)

Harry, by comparison, is quite notably raised by the Dursleys, who make a point of how he's not one of them, he doesn't actually belong with the family and the family he did have were shitty people who died in a car accident.

When he places great emphasis on James's looks and Lily's eyes, it's becase this gives him a connection to them. They are where he came from, people can look at him and instantly know whose son he is. It's a connection to the two people he is so starved for a connection to, and he especially longs to have known his father.

His admiration for his father, desire to always know more, his upset when he in Order of the Phoenix learns less-than-flattering truths about James, are all what I'd expect from someone in his situation.

As much as I like to be a cynic and generally have a poor opinion of Harry, his longing for parents isn't at all sexual and shares nothing in common with Edward's weird complex about Carlisle.

[romancegifs]

You make me feel less cynical.

LOGAN LERMAN & LILY COLLINS in Stuck in Love (2012) dir. Josh Boone 

[milfbius]

Honkai Impact 3rd - Flowering Spring Merch Series

flowers + their symbolism under the cut!

kiana - pansy - longing, daydreaming, remembrance, unconditional love

mei - clematis - beauty, elegance, transformation, spiritual growth

bronya - morning glory - perseverance, courage, youth, pursuit of knowledge

seele - forget-me-nots - true love, remembrance, spirituality, sincerity

fu hua - snapdragons - strength, courage, resilience, good luck

senti - nemophila (penny black) - victory, cynicism, forgiveness, gratitude, new beginnings

veliona - spider lily - destruction, beauty, passion, isolation, abandonment

elysia - cherry blossom - love, feminine sexuality, transience, renewal

[heerinnie]

jay, 64! <3

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐈𝐭?

𝐏.𝐉𝐒

SYNOPSIS: Park Jongseong a.k.a. Jay was a bad fortune, always in some kind of inconvenience having to fight to get away from the issues surrounding him until you came along and made him a better man.

WARNINGS: Angst/Fluff - sad ending ig, mentions of domestic ab/se, abandonment, jay x fem!reader (anything else let me know)

(Not proofread)

WC: 810

^^SFW UNDERCUT

Never intended, never meant. Your involvement with Park Jongseong was never supposed to happen and yet it did and you couldn’t be happier.

He was a bad fortune, always in some kind of inconvenience having to fight to get away from the issues surrounding him and the people causing them. Not you though, you always stayed even if your mere presence could kill him he’d take the risk and become a martyr for his affection.

-

Abandoned and alone, you and jay strolled around the empty night streets lightened by flickering street lamps that normally should have you heaving out of fear yet you felt safe. Safer than being home, safer than being at school or anywhere where Jay wouldn’t be found. It’s not that you were being hurt at home or mistreated at school, it was far from that at least you thought so yourself- it was just that measly and soul sucking feeling that came with the distance Jay would unwillingly have to give you during the day time since he wouldn’t want you ti get associated with a person like him. A ‘lawless and negligent delinquent’.

But he was far from that, he wasn’t some wrongdoer that taunted the streets of your town. He was not an irresponsible offender that everyone claimed him to be, nobody helped him and nobody listened to his so called sob stories that were genuine cries and pleads for help and action so he can grow up to a good status. He got discarded like an empty candy wrapper with remains of sweetness that disintegrated and decayed when the rain came. He got moulded into who he was today, cold and bitter to the world that failed to save him.

“Are you cold?” Were the first words that left jays mouth after strolling in silence for a while,

“No yeah, I’m good”

“I feel like there’s something on your mind, wanna talk about it?”, his sudden movements came to a halt as his soft eyes examined your expression.

No matter how many times you told Jay you’re alright he always knew that you weren’t. It was strange, it almost felt like his heart strings were being pulled to your direction engulfing you into a warm and secured hug you both quietly needed. Best friends are like this right? They feel what the other feels? Think the same thoughts? They get goosebumps whenever they make physical contact? That’s all platonic, it had to be.

For Jay it wasn’t, he knew from the first time he saw you, you’d be the one for him and then when you made an effort to understand him even with his reputation he wanted nothing else than to wife you up right then and there.

-

Jay had his moments. Metaphorically speaking he’d be a bungee jumpers worst nightmare, some thrill seeker would want to jump at the opportunity they found only to find out they just accepted a near-death experience. If the cord snaps you feel immense fear about your fate, the only difference between jay and a broken restraint is that you’d be able to survive one. Interpret that however you want, your own guess was no better than theirs.

For all the cynical moments with jay there were always more beautiful moments at bay, like when you first saw him cry. Ideally seeing someone cry shouldn’t be a comforting memory, however with the context of jay feeling so secure in your presence he finally let himself go and it felt sickly bittersweet to see someone so damaged feel so vulnerable for the first time in forever.

-

It’s not everyday you’d stumble upon lilies of the valley but every time you did you couldn’t help but recall jay’s words.

“If I ever leave, remember me by these” he said passing you the delicate flowers, obviously taken a back by his words you couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by that. Is he leaving? Is he in trouble? Is he in that headspace again? Your thoughts raced to the worst possible scenarios before Jay took your hand into his and placing the bell-shaped white flowers behind your ear.

“Don’t worry darling” his voice cooed. “I didn’t know how to tell you and I still don’t know how I’m supposed to word it out-” the nerves started to settle in, “but I decided that it’d be better for me to move”.

It felt like a bullet just ripped you through your heart. A pain that could take down the strongest army. Now all that’s left here were the memories you made with Jay and all the firsts you had with him.

-

You’ll never regret meeting Jongseong, you’ll never forget meeting jongseong and you’ll never forget loving jongseong- even if it’s been years since you’ve held him in your arms, even if you never got the chance to let him know.

A/N: And so I’m back, I rested at home for a bit. I’m so glad I finally finished this and half of the other requests I got! Thank you to everyone who reached out after I posted about my tiny break. Hopefully I’ll start posting regularly again and I’ll be able to share more of my work <3

[overdueforarevival]

Marauders As Noah Kahan Songs

Regulus - Call Your Mom (if you've read pathological people pleaser you get me)

James - Mess (again, giving ppl)

Sirius - Paul Revere (need I say more?)

Remus - Bad Luck (mans got some self esteem issues fr)

Peter - Cynic (Peter realising he's going to betray his best friend)

Mary - Strawberry Wine (just marylily y'know)

Lily - Caves (it's giving estranged sister vibes)

Marlene - Save Me (again with the self esteem issues)

Dorcas - Fear of Water (girlie really went head over heels for Marlene)

[shallowseeker]

It’s kind of a gross misstatement to say Cas was simply a bad friend during the season 6 arc. Dean was also a jackass. He refused to even listen that Cas had his own problems to contend with in heaven and just insulted him (Baby in a Trenchcoat) or took him for granted and prayed when he needed some angelic boost like the time travel. It was only after months of this that Dean finally had a half-ass “Hey Cas, if you need any assistance with your heavenly war, let us know”. Dean and Castiel are both equally at fault for the initial breakup.

I'm not sure why I'm getting this particular question, but yup, I agree that the situation was complex.

One of Dean's legendary coping mechanisms/neuroses is to get prickly and mean when the going gets tough, and I love to talk a lot with regards to both the fighting/hunting and the parenting of Jack Kline.

For Dean and Cas, they're both deliciously Going Through It (TM) in season 6 in different ways, Cas dealing with paranoia via the fallout of Heavenly betrayal and Dean with his complicated feelings of displacement into civilian life.

I sort of miss the days of TV when people got to screw up this badly with one another, but not in such a way that it’s bludgeoning, mean-spirited cynicism, hehe. (((For example, I struggle to think of a modern era of SPN where Bobby's frustration and worry over Dean would boil out in this horrifying way: "You sorry--you're not a person," when in actuality, he's desperately begging Dean not to die, and it's coming out all wrong. Or Dean's indirect forgiveness of Cas, that Cas picks up on immediately by tone alone: "Bottom of the ninth...I'd rather have you, cursed or not.")))

But if we're talking about season 6, Cas is controlling most of the means of communication from the get-go, and the power is definitely weighted in his favor. He sets the tone for it as soon as his big heart leads him to abruptly flit from the car to go and rescue Sam. BUT it's also no accident that Dean's narrative nickname for Cas is SUPERMAN. A perfect, invincible superhero. Dean took him for granted, hero-worshipped him, and conceptualized him as perfect... something Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets reflects back in an off-key manner: "I thought he was perfect...he was a monster (and hurt my child)." The truth with Dean and Cas is not either extreme, however. ("That nifty metaphor has holes:" Cas was trying to save Sam from the get-go, on multiple occasions.) It's the humanity that's in the middle.

It's lovely! And to me, it feels so real, too. Maybe someone else can chime in, but I don't have any huge, complicated feelings about this except that I really, really like the disillusionment period on both sides!

“We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.” - Pema Chödrön

Love isn't baggageless perfection. It's understanding, forgiveness, resilience.

DEAN (in the dream state, to MARY): I hate you. (Deans voice breaks as tears run down his face) I hate you. And I love you. 'Cause I can't – I can't help it. You're my Mom. And I understand...'cause I have made deals to save the ones I love more than once. (Mary continues to look away but seems to hear him) I forgive you. I forgive you. For all of it. Everything.

[whimsimille]

A PETAL FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

Seo Moonjo x reader!

"Do you think these would be nice for her?" With fear in his gaze resonating off the ivory petals of the catchfly arrangement, Kim Nam Shik inquired while watching your deft fingers skillfully loop a satin ribbon around its right side. "You've always had such a knack for choosing just the right flowers."

A laugh fluttered out vacant and hollow as an abandoned mansion, bouncing off the walls as his fingers entertained themselves by drumming on a rusty iron handcuff dangling from his belt—ironically just a showpiece since all he patrolled were cloud-swathed streets of this labyrinth city and secret trysts with the mayor's wife and his compatriot in his district.

Unfaithfulness gnawed at him like a lurking creature in the dark, and you saw it right under his alluring mask. Nestled within Pocheon's slender streets filled with traditional Hanok houses, secrets were as fleeting as glimpses of dawn through the lingering mist. Whispers moved through the town like waves in the Soyang River, skimming over private conversations beneath the massive shadow of Gwanak Mountain. The whispers carried stories of temple bells chiming and daggers flying at Nam Shik, the picture-perfect husband and devoted police officer, who was now painted in two sobering hues.

Silent storytellers of treachery, white catchflies were charmingly cunning. An undebated tradition insulated meaning into ribbons – tie it on the left; confess someone's treachery; tie it to the right; concede to self-betrayal.

Apology replacing anger stirred within you as you observed Nam Shik wallow in unease, a stark contrast against his modest wife back home, who only saw his effusive smiles and confidence often splattered across local papers for saving the day.

"Officer Kim," you began, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the room, "Have you thought about writing her a note?"

A puzzled look stamped itself across his features. "A note?"

"Exactly," you responded, reaching within your counter to pull out a charming, cream-colored piece of stationary. Your shop’s logo sat elegantly embossed on the top right - a subtle explosion of lily-of-the-valley blooms - something you doodled as a kid for your mom's old shop; she got her wings early and left the responsibilities to you. A memory turned into an emblem, now stamped onto every love letter that left your store.

"Maybe a sincere declaration," you proposed, offering him the card. "Something that conveys her significance to you. It could pair wonderfully with the flowers."

Accepting it, he nodded. "Sounds good, Y/N. I'll do that."

After all, why not let him expose his treachery to his wife while feigning his love with an offering of flowers, whose symbolism he was blissfully unaware of?

Like the hammer of a blacksmith shaping iron, your heart pounded against your ribs. A dark, twisted humor that had you on the edge, a gnawing cynicism that had you contemplating whether to equip him with a pen for his confession or a shovel for his own grave.

"Pardon my curiosity, Officer Kim," you began, brushing the petals of a nearby rose with your fingers. "But I've heard things. Things about the mayor's wife. She's a beautiful woman, isn't she? As beautiful as these roses, perhaps?"

Nam Shik's eyes flickered with surprise, and his grip tightened around the stationery. His jaw tightened and sweat beads formed on his forehead.

A moment of silence passed before he managed a response.

"Where did you hear that?"

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, you know how it is in Pocheon. The wind carries whispers. Even the flowers here have stories to tell."

His lips pressed into a thin line, the confusion in his eyes replaced with a stormy unease. He reached into his pocket, his fingers curling around the familiar shape of a cigarette box. But before he could pull it out, your hand shot out to stop him. His eyes snapped towards you, wide with surprise.

"Officer Kim," you stated, pointing at the 'No Smoking Inside' sign hanging by the entrance. "My shop, my rules."

He stowed the box back into his pocket, an awkward chuckle escaping his lips. "Right, my apologies." He muttered, glancing nervously at the bouquet of catchflies.

Your smirk was fleeting, disappearing as soon as it appeared. Didn't he know? A flower shop was no place for burning bridges or harboring secrets.

The patter of rain against the roof rose to an imposing drone, while a perfume of fresh blossoms perfumed the room- subtle but omnipresent.

Just then, Nam Shik broke the silence. "I... I should get going. The rain is getting heavier, and the streets will turn muddy. I need to get home, put my baby daughter to sleep."

"Officer Kim," you interjected, halting his movements just as his hand was about to reach his worn-out wallet. "No need for payment; it's on the house."

"What? Why?"

You smiled, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "Consider it a gift, a token of appreciation from your local florist. You've been one of my regulars for quite some time now."

Nam Shik seemed taken aback but didn't protest. He merely nodded, a faint smile of gratitude tugging at the corner of his lips.

"But," you added, tapping your fingers lightly on the counter, "there's a small condition attached."

Curiosity flickering in his eyes, he tilted his head like a mutt.

"I want to know how your wife reacts to the bouquet. Consider it... professional curiosity. I enjoy knowing that my flowers bring joy to people.”

Less aware of your stoicism, Nam Shik chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Sure, I can do that."

"Oh, and one more thing. Please ask Mrs. Ji-An to visit me after one of your patrols! I'd love to chat with her over a cup of tea. She has such interesting stories, doesn't she? Last time, she told me about her gardening adventures. I wonder if she's added any new plants to her collection!"

Visibly stiffened at your casual mention of Ji-An, his other affair, his eyes snapped up to meet yours. For a split second, you saw a flicker of surprise, fear, or guilt in them, but it disappeared just as quickly. Trying to gather himself, he cleared his throat.

"Ah, Mrs. Ji-An... Yes, I'll make sure to pass on your message," he stammered, avoiding your gaze. The confident, composed officer was nowhere in sight. In his place was a man caught in the headlights, his secrets laid bare.

With a deep breath, he stepped out into the rain. The chime of bells hanging by the entrance rang out, their melody mingling with the pitter-patter of raindrops on the pavement. He pulled up his collar to shield himself from the cold wind that whistled past him, heading towards his home nearby.

Quaint, winding streets of Pocheon, slick with the day's rain, lay deserted except for the occasional silhouette hurrying past under the shelter of large, colorful umbrellas or huddling in the welcoming warmth of doorways. Nam Shik, in his rain-slicked uniform, must have felt like a specter weaving through the shadows. Every step he took echoed like an admission of guilt, and every glance he cast around felt like an acknowledgement of being watched by unseen, knowing eyes.

Now, all that was left was to wait and see what he would do with the truth.

A faint smile tugs at your lips, thinking about how you bent the truth to expose him, using flowers as your weapon against him. It wasn't exactly honorable, but sometimes deception deserves to be called out in the open.

As you continue tidying up, you hum faintly under your breath, humming one of those old village songs about unfaithful husbands and cuckolded wives seeking revenge through poisoned desserts or cursed needles sewn into their lovers' clothes. A soft chuckle escapes your lips at the thought.

Glancing at the antique clock hanging on the wall, you noticed that the hands had swept past midnight. Despite the late hour, you still had a few more customers who would come in, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the shop's lights, to buy flowers for their loved ones or just to brighten up their homes.

Your hands traced the petals of a pink peony, feeling their velvety softness under your fingers as you murmured reassuringly to them.

After a few minutes, the  door chimed again, its familiar metallic jingle echoing through the quiet of the shop.

"Good evening," you called out, not yet looking up from the flowers that occupied your attention. Your fingers danced over the petals, snipping away the dried leaves with a careful precision that only years of practice could offer.

It was only when the silence stretched on, unanswered, did you glance up to meet the newcomer's gaze. Framed by the dim street lights outside, a tall and lean man stood tall in the doorway.

Raindrops clung to his hair, dripping onto the floor with soft plinks against the tile. Wearing a black turtleneck shirt and neatly rimmed glasses, he looked even more out of place in the little flower shop. His hands were tucked behind his back, but even from where you stood, you could smell the sharp, unmistakable scent of iron in the air. Crimson stains dotted his cheek, a stark contrast against his pale skin.

It didn't take long for you to realize that he wasn't from around here. The way he looked around the shop, his gaze lingering on the neatly arranged flowers, the old paintings that adorned the walls, and the antique clock that ticked softly in the corner - it was as if he were a ghost, silently watching the world around him.

Your grip on the scissors tightened imperceptibly at the sight of him.

"Can I help you?"

There was a pause before he responded, his voice carrying an unfamiliar lilt that you recognized immediately - he was from Seoul. "I was just passing by. I saw the lights on and... well, I've always had a soft spot for flowers."

"Oh, I see. Well, make yourself at home. My store stays open till late because some customers work odd hours and want to surprise their loved ones. What brings you to Pocheon so late at night?"

Apparently unaffected by your nudging, he shrugged. "I am an artist," he said simply, his gaze shifting over to the stainless steel pen poking out of your apron pocket. "And I'm here in search of inspiration."

"Inspiration..." you echoed, narrowing your eyes slightly. Something felt off about this man and his words. But then again, you had seen stranger characters come into your shop before—people seeking solace in flowers for all sorts of reasons. You couldn't help but wonder what kind of thing he was after.

“Perhaps you'd like to purchase a bouquet? Flowers often serve as muses for artists. I could recommend some known for their symbolism in art.”

"Oh, no… Maybe something for... a masterpiece I left behind?" He asked softly, his voice rough and low. It was clear he hadn't spoken much recently, like an old wound that never quite healed.

“Of course! I can help with that," you offered enthusiastically, setting aside the steel scissors you were holding onto the counter. "What kind of flowers were you looking for? Something bold and fiery like red tulips or something more delicate and whimsical like baby's breath?" You spoke as you led him deeper into the shop, where more fragrant blossoms hung overhead from strings connecting them to the ceiling hooks. Serenity gently swayed downward as if dancing in silent waltzes under the music only you could hear.

"I don't know. I  haven't seen flowers like these in so long... They're beautiful.” He paused, a fleeting smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "They remind me of someone very special."

Intrigued by his words and the emotion behind them, you found yourself more curious. "May I ask," you began, your hands skillfully arranging an unfinished bouquet of vibrant sunflowers as you spoke, "what kind of art do you specialize in?"

Fastening the stems with a golden ribbon, you turned to him, awaiting his response.

“Oh… I break things. Dissect them, mold them into something new. I take the broken, the shattered, and make them whole again.

His words struck a chord, leaving you with a sense of unease that slowly crept up on you. But you pushed it away, shifting your focus back to his words.

"That's... an interesting way to describe art. A unique perspective indeed."

He chuckled. "Art is a reflection of the artist," he explained. "Art is about transformation. About taking something ordinary and turning it into something extraordinary."

"That's true. Just like how a seed transforms into a beautiful flower?”

"Yes, exactly like that," he agreed, his eyes lighting up with a spark of understanding.

From then on, the conversation flowed naturally, your earlier anxiety dissipating as you talked about art, flowers, travel, and even his classical music love. What had at first made you uneasy seemed strangely reassuring in his presence. Your store felt brighter and cozier with him in it, even at this late hour.

Abruptly, the room reverberated with a tremendous crash.

Turning towards the sound, you saw a beautifully crafted vase, adorned with intricate carvings of peonies, that had been perilously perched on the edge of the counter, now lying shattered on the floor. Its pieces glistened like scattered jewels on the polished oak floor.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized quickly, looking genuinely mortified. "I didn't mean to ... "

"It's alright," you reassured him, already moving to clean up the mess with a small broom from under the counter. "Accidents happen. That's why they're called accidents.”

As you bent down to pick up the pieces, you suddenly felt a cold, metallic pressure against your throat, making you drop everything you were holding. You froze, the realization of what was happening washing over you like a wave of icy water.

"Art is also about destruction," he murmured, his voice devoid of the warmth it held just moments ago as he made your back meet his chest. Finally, you noticed how his nails were caked with dirt and blood, how he smelled of nicotine and something predatory, and most alarmingly, the warm liquid oozing out of his waist - he was bleeding. "About breaking something beautiful to create something even more beautiful.”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You had always known that the beauty of flowers often hid thorns beneath, but you had never expected to find those thorns so close to home.

Looking around for anything that could be used as a weapon or defense, you noticed that the scissors were too far away, but there was a small knife on the counter for snipping off dry leaves. You prayed he couldn't make out the faint sheen of sweat on your forehead or the tremble in your hands as you tried to think of a way to reach it.

“Nah ah… Don't even think about it, pretty flower.”

You unconsciously swallowed as the cold metal pressed tighter against your throat. Your heart beat faster, and your breath hitched in your chest. You slowly raised your eyes to meet him, seeing the depths of deafness and satisfaction reflected in his gaze. What had seemed like a mysterious stranger moments before was suddenly a threat, possibly even a killer.

"Please..." you whispered, trying to plead with him. "You don't have to do this."

But he didn't listen. Instead, a deep hiss escaped from between his teeth as he pulled you closer to him, his fingers digging into your skin. You could feel the sharp edge of the blade that had somehow snuck into his hand; it was cold and unyielding. It cut through your flesh like a jagged knife, tearing through silk. The pain was immediate and intense, but you barely registered it.

Outside, the rumbling of thunder could be heard growing louder as the rain fell harder on the rooftop above you.

"Why are you doing this?" You managed to croak out before another bloody cough burst from your lips staining the front of your lavender apron.

Stars danced in front of your eyes as you struggled for air. As the sound of your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, the room appeared to spin around you, amplifying until it drowned out all other noises.

All around you, the flowers seemed to wilt under the sudden darkness - their petals curling in on themselves as if they too were wilting under the pressure of impending doom. How ironic it was; you had chosen flowers for their symbolism of life and new beginnings, yet here you were, dying in your own store that you had hoped would bring joy to people's lives.

Try as you might, fighting back was impossible—every movement you made just made things worse. It was like swimming against a powerful current.

Through the shop's window, you caught sight of a small man with an oversized, rain-soaked coat. He looked like a drug addict, his eyes darting around nervously as he held a gun in his shaking hands. Every feature on his face was masked by the dim streetlights, save for his eyes, which were wide with desperation. He was trudging down the streets, his boots splashing in the puddles as he seemed to search for something—or someone.

"Help! Please—" Your plea was cut short as the man landed a punch on your stomach, effectively silencing your screams.

"Quiet, darling," he warned in a dangerously low voice. "Believe it or not, I'm the safer option here."

Without another word, he began pulling you towards the back of the shop. His steps were measured and deliberate, carefully avoiding the shards of the shattered vase. Your heart thumped against your chest as he guided you towards the hidden room—a tiny space your mother had fashioned for you to rest during long shifts.

"Why are we going here?" You managed to ask, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound steady. "How did you know about this place?"

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the antique doodle hanging by the door, the one that showcased you and your mother running from a big shadowy figure. “I need a place to hide," he finally said, his tone strangely matter-of-fact. "And you're going to help me."

A wave of memories washed over you as you stepped into the hidden room. This small space, tucked away from the rest of the world, was your sanctuary. It was where you and your mother would curl up together after a long day, whispering stories and sharing secrets. It was where you would retreat when your father came home too drunk, too lost in his own sorrows and inner demons.

The room was filled with remnants of your past—a tiny bed covered in faded floral sheets, a worn-out teddy bear sitting on a wooden chair, and the old radio that would softly play your mother's favorite songs. The walls, painted a soothing shade of lavender, were adorned with old photos and drawings. And in the corner, a small wooden chest filled with your mother's keepsakes—letters, trinkets, and an old locket that held a photo of you as a baby.

"Where is the key?" He demanded, his voice echoing off the four walls of the room.

"In the top drawer, under the counter.”

He retrieved the key and locked the door, the click of the lock echoing ominously in the room. The man then turned to you, his eyes scanning the room before landing on the small cot in the corner.

"Sit down," He ordered, pointing towards the cot with a bloody hand. The dim light from the solitary bulb hanging overhead casting an eerie glow on his pale skin, making the blood look black. “And don't even think about trying to be funny, honey. I have a gun here too.” He nodded towards a dark shape peeking out from his pocket. It was a small gun, but deadly in the wrong hands. “You're quite the beauty, and it would be a tragic waste to paint this room with your blood, but don't think that I will even blink. I could give your lips and those eyes a better purpose. A place in my art gallery.”

Your heart pounded in your chest like a wild drum, but you snarled back at him, teeth bared like a cornered animal. “You're no fucking artist, motherfucker. You're a monster.”

His laugh was a low, chilling sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Oh, no, no, darling! Of course I am. Don't you understand the beauty of my craft?” He kneeled in front of you, the knife in his hand glinting in the dim light as he traced patterns on the bare skin of your legs. You flinched at the cold touch, but refused to show any fear. “Do you want to know the best thing about masterpieces, jagiya? Sometimes, past creations turn into chasing specters, hungrily hunting back.”

Despite the blood he was losing, he seemed unfazed, a devil wreathed in human skin. His eyes gleamed with a perverse delight as he continued his torment. It appeared as though he was a deformed Dionysus, intoxicated by his own dark pleasure.

Gathering your strength for the inevitable fight, you forcefully swallowed. "This is not something you can get away with."

“Oh, jagi… I always do.”

Before you could react, he reached out, his hand cradling your face. His fingers were cold against your skin, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a chillingly tender caress.  “You are a beautiful flower, aren't you?”

With his eyes grazing your tear-streaked face, he drew slightly away. “Tears don't suit you, darling.” Raising his hand to remove them with the back of his hand, he spoke.

All of a sudden, he leaned in once more, gently kissing your cheek with his lips. Although the touch caused your skin to crawl, you held your breath to prevent him from getting a kick out of watching you writhe. His lips trailed down your cheek, stopping at the corner of your mouth. “Such a pretty mouth,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a mocking caress.

Then, without warning, he struck. The blunt end of his gun connected with the side of your head with a sickening thud, sending you sprawling onto the floor.

Knowing that you would be at his mercy if you blacked out at this point, you struggled to stay conscious even as your vision became blurry and pain erupted behind your eyes.

With his face just inches from yours, he knelt beside you. “Sleep tight, darling.” Before getting up and leaving you by yourself in the tiny room, he gave you one last kiss on the forehead.

[harmlessghosty]

Hello 👋

I love video game theories and was interested on your views of the Touchstarved demo and what theories you might have on it :)

Oh my gosh, hi! ❤️

I am but a ditzy romance writer, not a lore keeper, but I have thoughts?? Apologies for how much is wrong or ridiculous because I don’t know all the current lore, and the wiki is so bare that I can hardly find anything confirmed by the devs. This is kind of just stream-of-consciousness!

Excuse my format because I don’t know how tumblr works lol

— Leander is a reference to oleander, which is a flower found basically everywhere and a fairly common, beautiful plant despite widely being considered poisonous. It gives me the idea that Leander is NOT someone to mess with and has lots of surface-level escapades (which is implied in canon) with people who find him physically beautiful but not necessarily beautiful on the inside. He also uses many underhanded, mysterious tactics to kill Soulless/Monsters/criminals, you name it. He’s everywhere, everyone knows him, everyone loves him, but he’s very dangerous under that beautiful exterior. Maybe he even kills some innocent people for the right price of big secrets. I bet he knows a LOT about Eridia’s people, so he’s viewed as trustworthy because what else can you do when he knows everything about everyone?

— Interestingly though! Leander’s main flower is the lily?? Lily is super poisonous to cats, which makes me think maybe there will be some sort of connection between Mhin’s stray cats and Leander being a danger to them (or possibly to Mhin themself).

— I feel like Leander gave himself that big scar. Maybe something went horribly wrong when he became a powerful mage. Maybe he went to Ais and the Seaspring even. It’s possible this is why their relationship is strained and they’re always trying to kill each other.

— Ais’ gang didn’t just go for a walk. They died or got turned into Soulless. Maybe after drinking from the Seaspring, after some amount of time, people turn into Soulless. It could be revealed that all the murdering of Soulless ends up being murdering of your fellow humans?? One really big secret.

— Mhin is a stereotypical “broken bird” trope. Super cynical and sarcastic. Went through major trauma and now they’re a hunter with a heart of gold. Not to mention their bird motif that a lot of people say is obvious?? I think that’s an interesting way to look at them.

— Also! “The vultures can smell death.” It gives Mhin the connection to the birds, that they’re turning into a vulture maybe?? Maybe they hate it as well because they’re drawn to stray cats as friends, and vultures go after smaller critters. They’re scared of hurting the only friends they have (including Kuras, who practically took them under his wing). Not to mention it’s a reference to them being able to smell death on the MC.

— Vere and Kuras were both in Eridia since the days it began, and they’ve butted heads for many, many years. Maybe Vere was cursed by Kuras into his current Monster form for having connections to the Senobium. Kuras thought it was funny to give Vere traits of a sneaky fox, maybe not even knowing that they would last forever OR because Vere did something awful to him. That may be the reason Kuras is repenting so much.

— This also can give credence to the idea of Vere saying (paraphrasing), “You’re not a human but not a Monster, like me,” to the MC. He was turned into a Monster rather than born one.

— The “Lloventian knot” Vere mentions, when you look it up, leads you to the “true lover’s knot,” which involves two overhand knots and some parallel ropes. Makes me think he’s got some big secret of a lover he’s lost, or maybe he was just teasing the MC with something that sounded sexual, but it seems odd to have a specific mention of something that may (or may not even??) exist.

— “Danger is drawn to you like a moth to flame,” from Vere. He absolutely can sense something “special” about the MC that, no matter what MC does, they’re in grave danger. Hence why the game description says that the ending can either be lovey-dovey or blood-icingly awful. I don’t know about having theories for this quote, but it feels so very important.

— There’s got to be a riff between Kuras and Mhin at some point for their opinions on the Senobium. I just feel it in my bones.

— Ais was the first to drink from the Seaspring, which is why he’s not technically one of the Groupminds. It also explains why he’s the leader of the gang, since he’s the most sound of mind, but I’m betting he’s scared of Ocudeus. He speaks in such short sentences most of the time because his brain is so muddled. I also find it interesting how the MC has only heard of the Groupminds but never seen one, given their assumed upbringing in a rougher environment. But that’s just kind of my opinion with no real basis in the demo.

— Sparrows symbolize a lot of things, like hope, bravery and friendship. I like to think that Ais picked the nickname for people who come to the Seaspring, because they’re all full of innocent hope that they can be cured. They also symbolize community, so anyone who drinks from the Seaspring is part of one big happy family!

Again, a lot of these could be counteracted by canon content from the devs, but I still think there are lots of fun things to explore about this game, even if I’m not right about a chunk of things. Just think of everything I said as an AU!