#i know a part of him was rolling with hatred that *someone else* found the way to make the song work when he couldn't do it for years

[uranometrias]

an ode to fake hatred — dean winchester

→ premise: the one where sam notices the exact moment dean starts to view you as someone more than just a third party on their mission to locate john winchester!

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: crack <3 , very short, mostly in sam's pov. takes place sometime during s1. reader is described to have lost a significant other <3

→ a/n: this is actually an excerpt from my dean x female! oc fic that i published on wattpad, but i thought it'd be cute to publish as a short little imagine too! <3

You had never felt like much more than a weapon to be wielded. Something to smite, to kill, and to be used. Never destined to be more than the thing forged to bring someone else to their destiny. Sitting in the Impala though, brought you a happy exception.

You never felt like anything outside of normal sitting inside that car.

You lets your toes wiggle as they sit up on the dashboard, knowing full well that the moment Dean catches you, he'll have your head. But, you'd filled a lot of your time with the Winchesters by getting under the skin of the eldest. He had not been happy about the fact that Sam had asked you to come along, but apparently some nightmare had him convinced you weren't safe if you were on your own.

Dean hadn't been as keen on the plan, but over time he'd warmed up to you in his own Dean-like way. You weren't sure exactly why Sam had even let you sit up front, you'd become quite accustomed to sitting in the back, familiar with every divot, every nook, cranny, and percy magazine Dean had hidden under the seats.

You'd even found having to lean in between driver and passenger seat to feel like part of the conversation between Sam and Dean, an expected part of your day-to-day schedule. Not today though, your muddied shoes had become decoration for the floor, and Sam's snorting as he takes in your polka-dotted socks.

A little childish, sure. But, they were also exceptionally comfy. Especially when she was forced to wear boots and sneakers most times of the day. You offer sam your middle finger in response to his snort, and that serves to make him chuckle. The sound helps to ease some of the tension you felt. Without meaning to, your eyes scan the outside of the car, and you hate the way your eyes light up of their at the sight of Dean finally coming out of the gas station.

His hands are full of all sorts of junk, and his smiling like the cat that ate the canary. You know nothing good could come out of it. You smack your teeth the second Dean's opening the passenger door, poking his head in, and chucking the entire pile right at you. Snacks smack your face, raining down like a junk-food shower. It makes you swing at him, just barely missing his face as he jerks away, shutting the car door behind him.

You find your lips curving up into a small fond smile when you hear the way your retaliatory actions make him chuckle. Sam is watching you closely, eyes jumping from you and then to his brother as Dean stands outside and pumps the gas. You're so caught up in watching Dean that you don't even notice the way Sam is reading you like a book.

He was no dummy, and he thanked his lucky stars that as the days began to roll together the arguments that used to fill up the time between you and Dean had started becoming far and few in between. It was precisely why he was sitting in the back, he had a bit of a hypothesis he was testing out. He'd never push a grieving person back into the dating fray, Lord knows he wasn't ever going to be over Jess.

But... there was something oddly poetic about the way you and Dean, two people who were a lot more alike than either dared to admit seemed to have found this new rhythm.

There was a quiet push and pull, both of you tiptoeing closer and closer to some massive fork in the road that would spin you down a different path forever.

Sam wasn't sure which way you two were headed though, not completely. Especially because tender looks when the other wasn't looking was not quite enough to prove anything. If it were all of Dean's taunts about you and Sam being in love would have a bit more merit.

Sam leans back, caught off guard when Dean returns, sliding into the car, and digging through the pile you'd let partially spill onto the floor, before finally offering him his own assortment of junk to quiet the grumbling of his stomach.

He hates the way you all live sometimes, but he knows your profession makes it hard to be too picky. As the impala comes back to life, Sam is looking between Dean and you again.

You're kicking your feet happily, mouth full of what looked like your favorite gas-station snacks, as well as something else that looked more like Dean's favorite. It was small things like that, that you did deliberately to garner a reaction from Dean.

The two Winchesters catch eyes in the mirror, and Sam is certain he looks smug as he stares down his obvious older brother. His eyebrow then quirks at the way Dean suddenly seems to take in the way you're eating his food, before his eyes jump to your feet perched up on the dashboard.

Sam chokes on a laugh the second Dean's hand flies out and swats at your feet. You let out a shocked gasp, glare pinned straight on the oldest. "What the hell's your problem?" you seethe as Dean's eyes roll.

"Get your damn feet down." he demands, swatting at your foot again.

It makes you smack your teeth, popping his hand as a small tussle ensues with Dean trying his hardest to remove your foot from off the dash. "You're lucky enough to be sitting in the front, and you wanna go 'head and mess it up." he scolds. Sam's stifling a snort, watching as you lean over the center console to flick his ear.

You don't move your feet, in fact you let your body slump until your feet were near touching the windshield, and Sam's eyes are back on Dean, almost wondering what he'll do next. "Oh, nice. That's real mature." Dean grumbles, but there's no real bite behind the words, and you seem to know as much. What with the way you smile up at him in a way that makes your eyes close, and exposes all your teeth.

"I don't get paid to be mature." you retort. "It's actually my life's mission to piss you off, Deano. Deal with it." you mutter with a shrug.

Sam notes the moment Dean's eyes seem to soften as he stares at your side profile. You're looking ahead though, no longer giving him your attention. "Well trust me, you're doing a damn good job." Dean's sarcasm makes Sam huff out a laugh, the quiet nose ignored by you and Dean once more. It was always like that with you two. Easy to get lost in the moment and forget who else could possibly be around.

"Good, I'll be here all week."

"Someone kill me now." Dean grumbles, and this makes you turn your head, jaw dropped as you gasp dramatically.

"Take that back." you demand as Dean's eyes roll at your dramatics. "You love me, and you know it." you accuse, finger pointing right at him as it jabs into his cheek, pushing his head away from the road. A nuisance, that's what you were, the kind that lingered under his skin, and all in his mind. He hated you most times, liked you a lot more than normal at other times. It was a nauseating experience.

It wasn't like you were unattractive, you were just annoyingly sweet towards Sam, oftentimes getting him in a way Dean didn't. If he was honest, it was the most annoying part of your whole arrangement, feeling like the stranger with his own brother.

You called him Sammy like it was the name he'd been birthed with, and he never had any quips or qualms about it. And you'd tug at his arm like a silent shadow, saying everything with your eyes when he'd look at her. No matter how tired, or exhausted he might have been, he always, always understood exactly what you were trying to convey.

And when he'd fall asleep in the front seat of the impala, you'd slip multi-colored scrunchies from off your wrists and make ponytails in the shaggy mop of hair he'd sported, and never once received more than a playful eye roll. He laughed at all your jokes, laughed until he couldn't breathe. He smiled, and let it reach his eyes.

He listened to every incessant ramble of yours. Never complaining, never telling you to shut up, only listening devotedly. And you talked, a lot. Talked about anything and nothing at all.

You were annoying, Dean knew that from the very first night you'd met. You grated on every single last nerve he had, and seemed so oblivious to just how unwanted your presence was. You laughed too loud, ate too slow, asked too many questions.

You forced yourself into conversations that didn't concern you, and made every motel room, every space they stepped into your own. Even now, your perfume filled the impala, making it smell much to sweet for the job you did, for the sort of life you lived. You were just wildly out of place, and Dean hated you for it.

Still, he turns his head back towards you, taking you in as you continued to gawk at him like he'd really wounded you, and he smirks. Mostly because he knew you were only playing up your dramatics to fill the empty spaces of the road trip. "Do I know that?" he queries, and it makes your eyes narrow. "Believe me, sweetheart. The only thing keeping you from becoming a hitchhiker is Sam's dumb little crush on you." he says firmly, and you snort.

Sam scoffs, because he doesn't have a crush on you. Not really.

"That was almost convincing." you reply. "But, your heart's just not in it." and with that, you're effectively shutting him up. You kick your feet some more, ultimately getting bored of the action, and deciding to sit up straight. Your feet though, don't touch the ground, instead you sit criss cross applesauce, and go back to eating your 'breakfast'

"Shut up." he gripes back, and you go through the motions of pretending to zip your lips. Your eyes wander, a devilish grin wiggling onto your face as you take in the radio. You're trying your best to get your hand on the dial, gasping when Dean's hand whips out and stops you. ''Would you just sit still?" he demands, and you want to scream. Mostly because road trips with the Winchesters could go on for hours, and what did you have if not your ability to piss him off?

"Would you just sit still!" you mock him, voice dropping a few octaves. "It won't kill you to listen to something outside of -" and you turn to look back at Sam. "What did you call it? Mullet Rock's greatest hits?" you call back to your very first hunt partnered up with the boys. "I happen to know that if you just flip your dumb cassette over, you'll like what you hear." you say, and Dean's shaking his head at you.

"My car, my rules, princess."

"You're the princess." you shoot back gruffly.

"You two are unbelievable." Sam comments, and that shuts you and Dean up instantly. Dean's grip on the wheel is tightening just slightly, all traces of humor escaping him for the moment, as you pivot your entire body, facing the window as you go back to quietly eating chips. Sam's not sure what's gotten into the both of you, if it had something to do with the fact that you weren't alone and were behaving as such, or if you both had just realized just how obvious you were being with your interest.

There's a brief moment where none of you are talking, only the quiet thrum of whatever was playing from the radio filling the space. That is until Dean's hands, quick as lightning are crossing the car to snatch the bag of chips from your grasp. You gasp exaggeratedly, and Sam's stifling another laugh, because Dean's pretending to be so unbothered. Grumbling something about spending extra money on snacks for you when you spent all your time eating his shit anyway.

Sam witnesses the second Dean sets the bag in a space that's perfectly accessible to the both of you. Cutting eyes at you, as you narrow your eyes at him, before slyly letting your hand move to the bag. Sam supposed this could serve as the answer he needed for his hypothesis, his eyes catching Dean's again in the mirror. Though, there's no smirk on his face this time, in fact, no smugness in his eyes at all instead... he finds that he's happy for his brother.

Even if the idiot didn't know why yet.

[daeluin]

ok i need someone to be insane with me bc it's been a full weekend since that interview and i still can't get over patrick absolutely seething at the idea of someone else coming up with music for pete's words

[delusional-fantasising]

I Do Love You (Soldier Boy x GN reader)

Summary: Reader tells him 'I love you' and he gets overwhelmed and shuts off.

Warnings: Soldier Boy kinda being an asshole/biggot, angst no happy ending, trauma, sexual undertone at one moment, slight misogyny, self hatred and emotional shut off

Word Count: 1176 words

The night was young, Soldier Boy had agreed dating you during his time with your team, The Boys. But one thing was obvious, under his brave and dominant bravado he was scared of loving ever again. He didn’t want another betrayal, another heart break, it just wouldn’t let him sleep to the idea of ever loving again. He was terrified of the thought that you, the one person he had slowly began to trust without any benefits could love him.

Every woman’s words rang out in his ears whenever you smiled at him;

“They don’t and they never have. The woman are either humouring you or they’re scared of you. But none of them like you.”

“I didn’t love you, I hated you. We all did.”

Soldier Boy was sitting near you with an arms reach of you, sure there was a part that did somewhat loved you but another part of him was sabotaging himself, ‘They don’t love you. They are afraid of you.’

He wasn’t looking in your direction, he was watching a documentary with you about all the years he missed. It was hard for him to watch to learn everything that changed and forced to change so fast. He had slowly gotten used to the race change not that he had too big of an issue, sorta. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around the gender roles, he found it absurd that men were no longer expected too much to have an income but more rather be expected to be emotionally available, talk things out when things get hard, respect boundaries, and empathy.

“Phht back in my day I never had to do that, women where at home and I would give them pleasure and necessities,” He scoffed as he listened to the feminist rallies that happened. You almost choked on your drink when he mentioned the whole pleasure thing, it was no joke and there was rumours from past lovers of his that his only green flag was that he was the one to go for pleasure.

“Soldier Boy, you can’t be saying that!” You laughed with very much flushed cheeks, he rolled his eyes at you telling him what to do. He wasn’t a big fan of being bossed around, he had to be in control not someone else. But then you say something that made him freeze, his hands gripping the couch arm till his knuckles went white.

“You are so lucky I love you enough to let that slide for now but you seriously got to get with the times. Women don’t want just pleasure, they want emotional connection.”

I love you…

Love.

Soldier Boy just looks away without responding to what you said initially, he was focusing on what his therapist says whenever he feels like he’s going to have a PTSD episode. (The boys forced him to go)

Breath in for four seconds

Hold it in for four seconds

Exhale for four seconds

Hold it in for four seconds

Repeat

Once he felt himself mostly calmed down he just gave a rude snarky response, his tone sarcastic, “Love. That’s a pretty big word, isn’t it? Especially for someone who barely knows me.”

“What? C’mon we have been dating for a month, you have told me some deep stuff. I just want to express some of my love for you,” You chuckled sounding confused at his sarcastic outburst but not taking it to heart since you knew that he sometimes does this to cope. You didn’t know you hit a trigger since the only one you knew about was nothing Russian around him especially the song ‘Escape’ as it triggered one of his worst episodes of exploding. Soldier Boy snapped at you and laughs with a mocking gesture as he waves his hand, “Oh so I opened up a few times and now you know me. This is crap and everyone now and days just throw that around with no meaning. I’m not some person who you can google and get all the real information about me, you don’t know anything about me besides what I want you to know.”

The bitter tone, the sharp cold glare as you could tell he was closing himself off emotionally off from you again. Trying to get distance to avoid a pain you never wish to bestow him.

“Benjamin, I want to know you then. I can’t do this if you just shut me out, I want you to feel safe around me. I really do love you,” You begin, bringing his real legal name to show how serious this conversation was. To show honesty to him and not some fake love that he has gotten in the past by a certain woman.

“Save it, I heard it all well too many times before, ‘I love you, Benjamin.’ Then follows is a knife to my back after you kick me down,” Soldier Boy spat the look of hurt in his eyes and his lip quivered slightly as he wasn’t ready for hearing someone say that to him ever again. “Benjamin I’m not Crimson Countess, I’m not going to hurt you like she did.”

“You can’t promise anything, no one can. Love is just a word, a filthy fucking lie people tell themselves to make them feel better. It doesn’t and will never mean anything to me!” He spat getting up from the couch to pace angrily not looking you in the eye anymore. His eyes getting watery at the thought of going back in the box.

The box

THAT FUCKING BOX

“That’s not true. Love means everything to me and Ben I mean it when I say I love you. Every little imperfection, even when you can being a raging asshole and slightly biggoted you have been changing for the better and I’m proud of you for it.”

Proud, he stopped in his tracks. His trembling hands at his sides turning into fists. He felt his walls of defense cracking at how much he wanted to believe your words but he just ended up muttering, “I used to believe that but love’s just a precursor to disappointment, it’s something to avoid the harsh reality of the real world… I don’t want to lead you on to disappointment”

He was avoiding being vulnerable but it was hard keeping everything bottled up. A tear was slowly building up threatening to spill, his muscles tensing up. Maybe a joke or another witty comment to brush off the stupid feelings. The feelings that made him weak.

“Ben, you won’t disappoint me.”

“Shut up. Just shut up,” Soldier Boy grumbled trying not to set off any alarms with you since he wasn’t facing you, he didn’t want you to see him cry, see him weak.

He isn’t in control

His feelings were going rampant.

You got up, sensing those tears practically going up to him softly cupping his face to make him face you. There was so much emotional turmoil brewing underneath the cold hard wall he placed up. He was scared.

Scared of you.

[melloollem]

Giving You Hell|| Jason Todd × No reader gender

Summary: After discovering that you were responsible for his resurrection, you and Jason Todd have an argument that results in the end of the relationship.

Warnings: anguish, mention of death, fight in relationship, No gender specified.

I consider this a good fanfic, I hope you like it.

(DC masterlist)

You knew the danger of keeping secrets in a pandora's box. Soon someone fearless would open it, soon the evil that had been kept there would find the light of day and you could only wait for that day to come fearing the destruction knowing you were too powerless to stop it and the day came.

You knew that Jason was investing with Bruce who revived him, they obviously knew it was Talia Al Ghul's doing, but there was something else, he knew. The date that Jason had been brought back was not an unassuming date, close to his birthday, as something of a thought, at first he associated it with affecting Bruce, bringing his son back close to the date he was born, but the boy soon dismissed that, he had spent years after his resurrection without contact with Batman, setting up his return and that theory lost its meaning.

Jason then decided to question Talia, a quick phone call in which he asked who had ordered his return, at the time he wasn't sure if anyone had, but it seemed like an alternative and a good way to start the conversation, a hunch that might give him his answer, but Talia was vague saying only that she wouldn't tell Jason who it was because of a promise. Jason found it frustrating, but at least now he was sure that his return to life had been ordered by someone.

Now he wondered how he had never suspected, was he so blinded by his revenge that he couldn't see the obvious? You were always there, you were the one who grabbed Jason's body as he tried to get out of the waters of the Lazarus Pit, you were the one he grabbed that day fighting back all the tears and violent memories, but for Jason you were there as a hostage, as the artifice the League would use if he refused to fight Batman and now in hindsight that thought seemed stupid, naive.

"I loved you, Jason," you didn't say it in defense of his accusations, you knew he would never forgive you for it, but that was the truth, you had done it because you loved him. Your voice was firm, you wanted Jason to be sure of your words, but even so your eyes were clouded with unreleased tears, because it was painful to explain why you had done it to Jason.

"You gave me hell," he said with disbelief, but also loathing. That wasn't how Jason saw his resurrection at first, he saw it as a second chance, a chance to try again, to take revenge on those who betrayed him in life, but after finding out it was you, you chose to dig him up and force him to live a life watered in hatred intensified by the Lazarus Pit and you hid it from him, that was a second betrayal far greater than Bruce letting Joker live after his death.

"No, no... no..." each no was said in a whisper, as if it were unbelievable to think the opposite. "I saved you" Your voice became louder, filled with certainty and arrogance. "You know that, you had everything. You called it a new beginning, a new chance." You were accusing Jason, using his words against him, trying to convince him of your reason, but only one line of yours stuck in his mind. Did you believe that he had everything? Half of the boy he was had stayed there, there was no Lazarus Pit capable of living that part of him.

"It was not your choice" Jason cried, he couldn't even remember the last time tears had rolled openly from his eyes after the Lazarus Pit, of course, he had cried as he struggled in those waters, as memories of his death flashed through his mind, but this was the first time he had allowed himself to cry, That those tears didn't come out after much reluctance, he actually let them roll down, too incapable even for that, too incapable to maintain the façade that what he felt was just hatred not a sadness of overwhelming magnetism, but that was it, he knew it was just that and those tears didn't lie. They weren't abundant tears, but even those small tears made it clear what it was all about, Jason's decline.

You didn't accept Jason's answer, shaking your head in denial "And who would, Jason?... you? Because I remember you're dead, I remember you didn't even have the chance to fight for your life in that warehouse..." your tears came out, your mouth trembled as you spoke, but anger was never far away, the feeling of sadness and anger mixed, boiling cruel words. "So I did it, I fought for you, I fought for you to have a second chance…"

"...a tiny chance of being something, of not having died in a warehouse with a title that was taken from you in 3 months" Jason didn't try to answer you, to fight your poison, you wouldn't listen to him. You would never understand being dug up with the sole purpose being revenge against those you loved, you wouldn't understand the weight of the choice you made for Jason, condemning him to a life now drenched in remorse and regret.

"I did it because I loved you, Jason, like no person has ever done before, like Bruce never did. I couldn't live knowing that was the end of you and nothing you could say would change my choice, because I love you, Jason and you know it. No matter how much you hate me after that, you know that I only did it because I loved you," you said after the man's silence, you struggled, even though you weren't sure he would listen. You don't think Jason would understand, knowing that the person he loved the most had been killed in a cruel way, meeting his end prematurely, he would never understand how heavy a burden it was to make that choice, to be condemned to a short span of a life with Jason that would soon end when he found out about your choice.

There were words choking in your throat, words that would have sounded like "I'm sorry, Jason, I'm sorry for all the hell you went through after you came back, I'm sorry for all the pain I couldn't take away from you", but they would have stayed there, you wouldn't have given Jason the chance to think that at some point you regretted what you had done, that you would do things differently if you had the chance, because although you were sorry for all the pain Jason had experienced, you would never have let that be the end of him, you just wished there was a way to take that pain away from him, but there wasn't and if Jason had to live with it in order to live, then so be it.

That discussion had come to an end, you couldn't say anything more, you couldn't ask Jason to let you stay, for him to understand your side, you couldn't ask him for gratitude, you couldn't ask him for anything, you knew that. You had to leave, he didn't want you there, this wasn't one of the nights when you drove Jason's demons away, not when you were one of them, you could only leave, leave him alone and you did. Without another word, you left, there was no hope of him asking you to stay, it was the end.

Jason seemed surrounded by a tornado, blinded by his thoughts, there was nothing else around him. Jason wasn't sure, but he thought he would rather have died in that warehouse forever and ever along with all the happy memories, with his moments of gratitude and admiration for Bruce, with his time honored as Robin, with his sweet love for you, but now it was all tainted, Bruce had been the one who betrayed him, Robin had been the one who caused his death and you were the one who now buried the last remnant of the old Jason, you were the final point the proof that that Jason should have died completely and now he did.

[lovetei]

Hello! If you aren't busy could you try writing about an mc that looks identical to Lilith and maybe even has a similar name example: lily, Lillian etc. (If you can maybe mc that has a similar personality with lilith) And Ofc its platonic. (sorry if you don't understand this is my first time requesting on tumblr(⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

Wassuppp I'm back on the roll even though my internet is still not fixed.

And hey Anon! I hope you don't mind small angst :')

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The demon brothers reaction to an MC that looks and acts like Lilith

Warnings: Implied suicide, toxic behavior, slight horror, Lilian is used as your other name, Lilian uses she and her pronouns, no proofreading, grammar errors, spelling errors

Parts: One, Two

Links: Masterlist

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It has been complete year ever since that human exchange student, MC, arrived and it has been three months after that same human died.

The government released a statement saying that the human suffered a heart attack and died but the note that human left says the other way around

"You all are the worst beings I've ever met... No wonder you all are demons and I'll say it again IF YOU ALL WILL NOT ADJUST, IF YOU ALL WILL STAY THE WAY YOU ARE AND REFUSE TO COOPERATE OR EVEN CHANGE YOUR ATTITUDE THEN THIS PROGRAM HAVE NO WAY OF SUCCEEDING!"

Maybe the student did die because of a heart attack... But maybe, just maybe, it's because the students heart aches so much not because of the illness but because of the disease like beings around them.

Them ignoring you on the daily basis and even refusing to give you food that will actually help you get nutrients.

Them comparing you to their dead sister saying, there will be no way you can replace her.

Remembering all the things they did...

"I swear it upon my name... I WILL COME BACK AND BRING EVERYTHING YOU BUILD UP FOR YEARS DOWN AND CAUSE YOUR DEMISE!"

They got scared...

Because maybe the hatred of a human is indeed enough to warp the time...

And enough to bring everyone that treated them wrong on their knees...

Begging for forgiveness.

LUCIFER

Finally

Months after that incident

A worthy exchange student!

Yeah, he hasn't seen this new exchange student yet

So what?

The fact that Lilian look exactly like her is enough affirmation that she'll be a good candidate

And when she arrive...

She look exactly like her...

She act exactly like her!

It's like Lilian brought his sister back to life

He truly is glad to have her in this program...

But whenever she smile...

It's like...

Someone else's figure appear behind her...

A figure

A figure similar to yours...

MAMMON

He must admit that your death bothered him a little

But seeing the new exchange student...

It's like all of his problems dissappeared

The moment he saw Lilian, actually, he ran up to her and hugged her.

But there's something wrong...

This Lilian smells familiar...

This Lilian smells metallic...

Like how your room is like the night they found your dead body.

LEVIATHAN

He doesn't care about you at all

You're just so annoying and you like getting yourself involved in someone else's business

But this exchange student is different!

This exchange student...

This exchange student is his sister...

When Lilian touched his back to comfort him after he broke down and cried after he saw this new exchange student.

He felt something is wrong

Like Lilian's touch is similar to someone else...

Similar to... MC..?

SATAN

So that's how Lilith looked like...

He doesn't know what to feel

Something inside him loved to have Lilian around but he's sure it's just because a part of Lucifer's emotion is inside him

But the way Lilian smirk whenever the others left after complementing her is different

Saying Lilian look like, act like, sound like their sister

If he was in Lilian's place he would have lost his mind

But Lilian...

Lilian seems to like it..?

No,

Lilian despised it because they like it.

ASMODEUS

He doesn't care about your death at all.

Why should he?

The fact that he, someone who can be friends with anyone, hates you just proves that you really is despisable

But now Lilian is here!

Why should he pay attention to that weird feeling in his chest after you died?!

The feeling of guilt... Why should he care about it..?

Waaa! This Lilian is like Lilith..!

So fragile...

So lovable...

So much like... MC...

BEELZEBUB

He doesn't care about you but that doesn't mean he needs to disrespect you

After you died

His rose is the only thing left for your grave

It seems that your death brought something better though... So he can't just help it...

He just can't help but be grateful that you died...

It's like the world brought you, the problem, in this world to see if they can handle it

And when they surpassed it they got the reward, Lilian.

But he feels uncomfortable somehow...

When you cooks he feel full...

But when she cooks he feels... You?

BELPHEGOR

He laughed

He laughed when you died

He laughed when you got buried

And he doesn't feel bad at all

And now she's here?

He's thinking like his twin

He thinks that you're just the antagonist in this story that when you die the reward comes

. . .

Why is Lilian acting like this..?

Why is Lilian acting like you..?

Could it be...

[josiesullysblog]

Better Than Me

~AGED UP Neteyam x Na’vi reader

~Angst, fluff

~Proofread?-no

~Summary-[Y/n] constantly feels pressure to live up to her parents.

Your father was a great man. Sadly, you were never able to meet him but heard the stories he left behind. He was a skilled hunter killing anything in sight, but he was also an excellent healer having soft yet diligent hands when helping someone.

Everyone who knew him told you how great he was, especially Jake Sully. Your father and he were best friends, apart from Neytiri, he was the only one who trusted Sully, and in your father's last moments, he was the one sobbing over his lifeless body.

Jake was the one to tell your mother, the one to comfort her during such a dark time. By the time you were born, your mother had changed. She became overprotective of you, few people ever saw or held you as a child because she feared you wouldn't return to her.

As you became older, she forced you to train, and part of it was because she wanted you to be able to defend yourself in case anything happened. Another was because she saw your father in you, she knew you were capable of being better than he was so she pushed you.

You were barely five when she’d make you wake up and train. She thought the best way to learn was by experience so she’d force you into a dangerous situation,

“I told you that you need to learn, [Y/n],” she rolled her eyes as you clung to her. She pushed you in front of a wild animal to which you froze in front of not knowing what to do. Had it not been for your mother watching, you would’ve died.

“Stop crying, such a baby,” she was walking quickly making you have to jog to keep up, “i’m not a baby, I almost got hurt!” you stopped jogging trying to catch your breath, “[Y/n], Neteyam is younger than you and would've done better!”

Comparison. Your mother did it often, telling you how you could be better more like others more like Neteyam. He was younger than you by a few months and beforehand you didn't mind him, but your mother's constant words of how he is better than you, it took a toll on you. You grew a hatred towards him, constantly giving him a cold shoulder and you knew it wasn't his fault but you couldn't help it.

Neteyam didn't know why you acted the way you did, you were an absolute angel to everyone else but him. If you were going to be rude to him, he’d do the exact thing back. “You literally can't do anything right,” he’d laugh watching you attempt to do anything. You scoffed, “your one to talk, all you ever do is try to make daddy proud.”

It was quite ironic how’d you say stuff like that, but be striving for the exact same thing. The both of you were amazing at everything you’d try as you become older. This competition between you both didn't stop but became more intense throughout the years. Someone always had to come first no matter what, that was just how you two were. Your mother became harsher constantly pushing, thriving for more. You were becoming burnt out.

Your relationship with your mother was, complicated. You felt like you needed to be perfect if she was around you and acted a certain way to please her. You wanted her happy and wanted her to say, “i’m proud of you,” but it felt like no matter how hard you tried you’d always be second place in her eyes.

“Thsts all you got?” your head turned quickly facing Neteyam. You decided to get out and train a little longer today, “as you can do any better,” you rolled your eyes as he showed him your back.

You couldn't deny that you found him cute, or that sometimes just sometimes your eyes lingered for longer than they should on him. You wanted to deny this, he was your competition you needed to be better than him.

In all honesty, he felt the same way his eyes always looked for you. He always made you weren't hurt, even if he put this front that he didn't like you the boy was in love. Everyone could tell, except you.

He stood behind you, manhandling your hands, “if you go like this you’ll have a better chance of hitting your target,” you said nothing as your face flushed at the close proximity. He let go of you, and you let the arrow go hitting exactly where you wanted.

“Say thank you,” he said smirking which only made you push him away, he grabbed your arm more quickly than your chin making you look at him, “say thank you,” you thought he was playing a prank. You wanted to hit him, but also wanted him to come closer, Neteyam’s face came closer causing you to try to close the gap.

“Neteyam!” Tuk’s voice rang through and you both pushed away from each other, “I gotta go,” he wiped his face. He left leaving you with your thoughts, how you almost kissed Neteyam.

You stumbled over your feet as you attempted to walk. You woke up with your entire body on fire, your throat hurts, and it felt like the world was spinning. You didn't want to miss training, you couldn't miss training the trouble you’d be in. So, you decided to suck it up and still attend.

“Look who decides to show up,” Neteyam smirked in your direction. You didn't even hear him, your ears were clogged you just kept walking before finally sitting down.

You thought if it was really worth it being there, but your mother's voice rang through scolding you for skipping. You grabbed a tree trunk and hauled yourself up, you groaned as you grabbed a bow and arrow and pointed it at a target. You remembered what Neteyam showed you doing it quickly and perfectly.

“Good shot,” Neteyam came behind you smiling, you just nodded feeling your forehead. Coming out here was a mistake your body was overheating.

“Thanks,” it came out slowly causing Neteyam to look at you funny, “are you feeling all right?” he tried touching you but you walked off to quickly.

His eyes followed you, something told him you weren't alright. His eyes followed you before someone called his name.

You held onto a tree for dear life as you watched everyone else go. You couldn't move, it felt like you were going to vomit or maybe faint you didn't know which one.

You turned to go home when your body gave out, and you passed out on the floor. “[Y/n]!” Neteyam’s ears turned at the sound of your arm.

His feet moved quickly as he saw your body lie lifeless on the ground, “MOVE,” he pushed everyone out his way as he stood over your body.

Someone tried stepping forward to help but Neteyam hissed them away, he grabbed your body holding you close to him. He held you and protected your body as if you were his mate.

“I’m going to Mo’at now,” he moved quickly as he placed a kiss on your forehead, “we're going to get you help, beautiful.” your entire body was hot, how could you have gone so long without help?

He slowed down in front of Mo’at’s tent to which he barged in, “grandmother, please,” Mo’at quickly stood up at her grandson’s plea and gasped, “what happened?”

“She passed out during training,” he placed her down as Mo’at grabbed a paste. She hummed a tune as she placed it over your body Neteyam sat next to you, “you should leave Neteyam,” Mo’at tried saying but Beteyam shook his head.

“I’m not leaving my mate,” he looked into his grandmother's eyes before he looked back at you, “continue, please.” Mo’at resumed as she was fighting a small smile back.

Neteyam didn't leave your side for a minute, he didn't know what came over he just felt this need to protect you. “She’ll be alright, but her body’s tired,” Mo’at said as she stood up, “I’ll go collect her mother.” Neteyam nodded as his attention shifted back to you. How could you work your body so hard that you pass out?

How could you not say anything, he understood your relationship with him wasn't the best but maybe he could've prevented this, his thought kept going he didn't realize you woke up.

“Where am I?” you shot up looking around before being faced with Neteyam, “you passed out.” He tried making you lay back down. “Does my mom know?”

Panic filled your body as your breath picked up at a rapid race. “Oh my gosh, she’s going to kill me,” tears developed in your eyes. Neteyam's eyes softened, and he engulfed you in a hug, “it’s going to be okay.”

You shook your head, “my mom’s going to be mad I have to get up,” Neteyam stopped you, “you need rest,” you groaned, “I need to be perfect.” you fought to stand up but Neteyam was stronger, “[Y/n], don't you get it? You already are there's no one you need to beat!”

You scoffed, “I need to beat you,” he looked at you funny, “everyone keeps comparing me to you, how you're so good how you're this, how you're that I need to beat you,” you started sobbing as you hit him. Neteyam let you as he listened, “I need to beat you so my mom is proud of me.”

It made sense to him, why you're always mad at him, “you already have [Y/n],” he grabbed your chin making you look at him, “you can beat me at anything I don't care, you own me.”

He smiled at you as he came closer, “I understand why you want to be the best for your mom, I was there too but you need to understand how close I was,” he stopped, “close to what?”

“How close I was to losing you today, I never want to feel like again,” you closed the gap kissing him, his hand bringing you closer.

It didn't last long, but when you two let go for air a small smile appeared on your face, “i’m sorry,” you played with his braids, “I shouldn't have been so mean to you,” Neteyam’s hands played with the sides of your loincloth, “you know how you could repay me?”

You smiled as you titled your head, “how?” he brought you closer, “like this,” he kissed you as his hands roamed your body. Your hand landed on his chest as you both back up into a table.

“[Y/n]!” your mother's panicked voice was heard but you two were too far gone to hear. “[Y/n], are you all-,” she was cut off as you both finally let go of each other.

You smiled at her as Neteyam wiped his mouth, “i’m great!”

***

Hey guys! Sorry I’ve been so inactive I’ve been dealing with so much but i’m back! Hope you enjoy this!

[breeistired]

"Invisible string."

A starchaser angsty blurb?

This is part one of Bree tries to make fanfics while doing school.

TW: NO HAPPY ENDING, its my first time writing a blurb I think thats what you call it?, I dont know how to write on tumblr either, so bare with me.

----- (i dont know how to make an aesthetic boarder thing-)

James and Regulus never talked much. Only knowing each other from their mutual classes, or in this case, brothers.

Regulus had always found James quite annoying. "Why was he always laughing? What is there to laugh about anyways?" He would say to his friend Pandora.

If you ask anybody in this school, Pandora was tired of hearing Regulus complain about, "Pisser Potter."

"Maybe you should just fuck the hatred out of you both." Barty Crouch Jr would say with a mischievous smile. "Nobody asked for your opinion in this Crouch," Regulus snapped.

And so on the conversations would never be about anyone else, only James.

James on the other hand, paid much attention to Regulus. He noticed when Regulus had cramps, when he was mad or sad, when he was annoyed, James even noticed what time he ate and went to sleep.

James and him had many differences. Such as, Regulus being positive on his sexuality, he loved men and was a man.

Not his mothers little girl, her boy.

James, didn't know he liked boys until he met Regulus. When he first saw Regulus walking towards him, he walked the other way and ran into a wall.

Remus knew about James' little crush, it was quite obvious, but not to Sirius. To be fair, Sirius had just found out that Marlene liked girls, and she came out in front of them.

That's besides the point. James never felt as comfortable with his sexuality like Sirius, Remus or even Marlene.

Kissing boys felt weird. His whole life he was being told to create grandchildren with a nice girl, or marry a woman that he loves.

But what about the boy he loves?

Without even knowing it, James began to get closer to Regulus, feeling this invisible string pulling him closer and closer.

The invisible string pulled Regulus to James as much as it pulled James to Regulus.

The invisible string had no boundaries but someone did.

Regulus set major boundaries about touching. Anytime someone would touch him, he could push them away.

"Regulus!" James screamed, running to him. He hugged him, rather tightly and smiled. Regulus awkwardly, patting his back with a small smile. He couldn't explain why he was hugging him back, it felt natural.

James would do nice gestures for Regulus, such as, giving him flowers, buying him chocolate when he was dealing with his mensural cycle, buying him binders, etc.

Regulus could feel himself falling in love with James.

On one cold winter night, Regulus finds himself in the astronomy tower, with a blanket draped around his shoulders.

James himself couldn't sleep either, so he walked to the only place he knew Regulus would be at.

When James sees him, a bright smile spreads across his face. He slowly walked to him, his breath uneven.

"Don't you look cozy." James whispered sarcastically. Regulus rolled his eyes and looked up at the taller man. "What are you doing here?" Regulus mumbled. "I couldn't sleep." James gulped as he looks in Regulus' greyish eyes.

Regulus nodded and looked down at his feet. That gesture alone made James' heart tremble. Something came over him, with his right hand he lifted Regulus' chin up to face him. They stare at each other.

James smashed his lips onto Regulus' without any warning. Regulus kissed back, a small whimper eliciting from him.

They kiss for what felt like hours. James is the first one to pull away. "I shouldn't..." James mumbled. "I shouldn't have done that." His face turning into a look of regret.

"If its about my brother, we can fix that, he'll just have to live with it-" Regulus ranted and sighed. "Its not that." James gulped. Regulus' face turning into an expression mixed with confusion and panic. "What is it then?" He murmured.

"I wish you were a girl." James looked at Regulus, the twinkle in his eyes no longer there. Without another word, James runs off back to his dorm.

The next day comes around, Regulus was sitting at his usual spot at the slytherin table, having a much more gloomier face than normal. No one dared to talk to him.

He looks over at the gryffinor table, seeing everyone celebrate. He walks over there with a curious expression.

Sirius ran over to him. "James Potter has finally got a girlfriend! Can you believe it?" Over to the right, over Sirius' shoulder, he sees James kissing Lily Evans.

Regulus pushes Sirius away, not caring anymore. Regulus runs to the astronomy towers and breaks down. The words playing over again, "I wish you were a girl." Regulus' knees buckle, he falls to the ground, punching the floor. "Why not me?" Regulus cried out loud. Why not him?

James notices this and followed him. Not caring if anyone asks about his whereabouts. "Regulus, I swear-" James said once he gets to the astronomy tower. He doesn't let him speak. He stood up on wobbly knees and pointed at him, anger written on his face.

"I didn't realize I was such an inconvenience to you." Regulus deadpanned and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Regulus I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm not ready-" James tried to explain, but he cut him off.

"Are you ashamed of me?" Regulus murmured. James shook his head frantically, trying to tell him no. "When you kissed her, did you think of me? When you looked at her, did you see me?" Regulus whispered, his voice slowly growing louder. "I let you tear down my walls, and after I gave my all, that's all it took for you to get over me?" Regulus shouted.

James just stood there, taking it. He knew he hurt Regulus, and he hated himself for that.

James slowly tried to reach for Regulus' hand, trying to comfort him. "Don't fucking touch me!' Regulus yelled as he yanked his wrist back.

Regulus started to walk away before he heard James whisper something.

"I never told you I loved you." James looked at Regulus, eyes filled with tears.

"Maybe that was for the best." Regulus deadpanned and wiped away his tears.

And with that, he never looked at James again. James would steal glances at him while he was with Lily. She would never know about the invisible string.

The day Regulus died, James could feel the string cut. And then he knew what Regulus had felt when he broke his heart.

-

HIII, THANKS FOR READING. I DONT KNOW IF I SHOULD MAKE MORE, PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK ON WHETHER OR NOT I SHOULD MAKE MORE. REQS ARE WELCOMED IF YOU WANT. COMMENTS HELP OMG. PLEASE ASK SOME RANDOM QUESTIONS IN MY ASK BOX. AND IM STILL FIGURING OUT TUMBLR SO IF YOU COULD HELP ME THAT WOULD BE GREAT. THANK YOU SO MUCH, MWAH. BREE LOVES YOU.

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 29

WARNINGS: none

You don't go to your next class and instead head to the library. You pull a random book off the shelf, sit down at an unoccupied table, and start reading. You've always found comfort in the pages of a book no matter the issue, so it comes as a surprise when tears begin to blur your vision. You quickly hide behind your book, propping it up vertically on the tabletop.

You silently cry, and you wonder why. You know for certain that you're afraid of what Professor Umbridge might do to you during your detention, but that's not all. There's something else that's been bubbling up inside you for a long time, and it suddenly dawns on you that it has to do with Fred and George.

You realize that, ever since you met the Weasley twins, your school life has not been easy. You're always having to look over your shoulder to be sure that a teacher isn't watching you too closely. Your grades are dropping fast. You're getting detention. You lost your best friend to your enemy. All of these bad things have occurred and you know it'll only get worse if you continue to stay with the twins... Yet you feel that what you've gained throughout all of this completely outweighs your amount of loss.

The tears stop falling as you think of them: Fred and George. They make you feel happy. They make you more than happy; they make you free. When you're with them, you don't have a care in the world other than to make them feel as happy as you are. Before you met the twins, all you were concerned about was school, getting good grades, earning the respect of the professors, and whatnot. All of those are fine things, but... isn't this wonderful feeling worth so much more?

It is, you tell yourself, and you haven't been so sure of anything ever in your life.

You then remember the unexpected boldness that had driven you to almost telling Fred and George that you loved them. (You would have if old Umbridge hadn't spoiled the moment.) That boldness returns now as you relish the certainty of your genuine love for the Weasley twins. You quickly stand up, disturbing the silence of the library as the legs of your chair drag on the floor. The abrupt movement knocks the book you'd been pretending to read off the table. (Typically, you hold a much higher respect for texts of knowledge and would never dream of treating one so poorly, but right now you've got your mind totally set on something else.) Even if the truth is so obvious it'll sound silly when you do, you're going to profess your love for Fred and George as soon as possible!

You leave the book and rush to the library's exit. You're practically bouncing with joy and excitement as the words you plan to say to the twins form in your mind. Right as you come to the doorway, you smack into someone entering, sending you both to the floor.

"Y/l/n!" Malfoy's voice growls. Your happy emotions quickly give way to ones of hatred as you look up to see him getting back to his feet.

"Sorry," you mumble out of habit, then wish you could take it back.

"I ought to tell Professor Umbridge about your reckless behavior. You could have injured me," Malfoy sneers as you stand up.

You snort. "Oh, please. Don't be such a milksop."

"You won't be calling me such things once I get you in detention," Malfoy retorts.

You roll your eyes. "Don't bother. I've already got detention scheduled with the pink toad."

"Well, then," Malfoy says, grinning wickedly. "If that doesn't turn out to be enough punishment, I'll just have to wait to make my complaints until after she's become headmistress. Then she could do some real damage."

You raise an eyebrow in mild surprise at this. "What? Why would she ever be made headmistress? If anything happened to Dumbledore, I'm sure Professor McGonagall would be his replacement."

"But something has already happened to Dumbledore." Malfoy brushes past you, lingering too long when your shoulders touch. Your immediate desire is to move away, but now you're curious to hear what Malfoy has to say. "He's gone mad, you know," he half whispers into your ear. "And the Ministry of Magic will soon be wanting to make a... permanent statement about it."

Malfoy's words linger long after you leave the library. Though it's a bit early for dinner (not that you'll be around for when they serve it), you head down to the Great Hall, not wanting to be anywhere near Malfoy. You have a seat by yourself at the far end of the regular Slytherin table in hopes that no one will attempt conversation with you while you think.

Is what Malfoy implied really a possibility? You were upset about Umbridge's educational decrees when they first began making their appearances but also grateful that she didn't have any more power than that. She doesn't have the power... but the Ministry of Magic surely does. Could they really be so set on taking Dumbledore down if only for the sake of the students? Or is there more to it? If they truly cared about the education of Hogwarts' students, they wouldn't have sent someone like Umbridge to "put things in order". What you've read in the paper makes you think that the Ministry just doesn't want people to worry about You-Know-Who... Dumbledore's a very influential wizard, which is why they would need to hurt his reputation if he was wrong. But he's not, and, as far as you can tell, about one third of the public knows it, so the Ministry still has a good amount of opinions to win over... Is this the "something" that Maddy warned you about? Or would it only be the beginning...?

You aren't prepared for it when the intimidating dong of the clock tower lets you know the time: five o'clock.

You scramble off the bench and run as fast as you can through the halls and up the stairs, dodging students and faculty as you go. You'd hate to make Umbridge anymore upset with you by being late.

You reach the third floor, winded and panting heavily. For the first time, as you approach the door leading to Umbridge's office, true anxiety takes hold of you when you really imagine the situation that you're about to put yourself in. You feel sick. Every step closer to the door decorated with an ugly pink bow seems like an eternity, and you want to turn and run.

But you're a good student. You've always obeyed your professors because it's always been for your own good... Is this for your good? You extend a shaky hand toward the door handle...

TAG LIST: @tomhockstetter7-111 @jasm-1ne @costheticbabe @luthien-elvenia-asher @megablonde22 @thecuteavocado @weasleylady92 @websfromallthespiders @rubyintheforest @weasleylover4eva @georgeweasleyslostearhq @im-coolrat @them-cute-boys @xmadigurlx @keirasinbin

[bidisasterevankinard]

tease tidbit tuesday! 🎸🎙️

Tagged by @heartbeatdiaz thank you love 💙💙💙

rule: share whatever scene or snippet from your fic that has you excited, ig???

I shared part of it for sss but I needed to share part with Bobby cause his my fav here and I actually excited about this scene

more enemies to lovers au

“Let's get started. Buck, you're the first, play that tune that you showed me a few months ago,” Bobby points Buck to the instruments.  Buck goes to the guitar to play a melody that he started six months ago, but the text never came to him and he never finished it. Maybe someday.  He almost reaches the chorus, when the damn brown-eyed begins to sing and his as it was called "a wonderful angelic drawling voice that makes you think sinful things"(Buck literally read it in twitter once) fills the room. And it took you five whole minutes To pack us up and leave me with it Holdin' all this love out here in the hall I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town Now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before They end the chorus and both are looking at each other shocked. Buck can admit lyrics are good and go with music fantastically. Well, he can admit it for himself, never to anyone else. “I wrote it after Shannon sent the divorce papers,” the only explanation Eddie gives to Bobby, and the old man nods.  Buck feels the urge to be a jerk and doesn’t stop himself. “Couldn't satisfy your wifey?” Eddie turns to him so quickly that Buck is sure his neck will hurt for weeks. Fires of anger and hatred are burning in brown eyes and Buck wants to pour more gasoline. But he doesn’t have a chance to add more. “Well, at least I got into the label not through the bed of one of the producers,” Eddie says with the smirk that Buck hates from the first day he found out about Eddie Diaz, it always makes him want to start a fight.  “I slept with Abby after joining the label. And I didn't know she was a producer,”  “Come on, you're with your story and you haven't whored your way here? How many pussies have you licked and dicks sucked to get there?”  Eddie continues and Buck abruptly gets up and in a few steps overcomes the space between them, standing so close to the brunette jerk, using all his height and size, trying to seem bigger and intimidating. Bobbie’s quiet but rather intimidating voice scares both. “Both shut up and in the corners,” he points to two different chairs in different corners of the studio.  “The lyrics and music are perfect together, so whether you like it or not, we are finishing it. And you better start being a team. Otherwise, both of you will fly out of the label with a scandal that no one will ever want to work with you. Now you both have to stick to each other as if you haven't drank water for days, and the second one is a fountain of pure delicious water. Is that clear?” “Clear,” they both say looking at Bobby like kicked puppies, but then send each other looks that can set someone on fire. “Buck, do you have more for music?”  Bobby looks at him and Buck just shakes his head in denial and slight shame. He had never had to sit for so long with a draft of one song. And moreover, only with a melody. There are no words at all to put his heart in them as much as music does it. “Eddie, more lyrics?”  The old man changes his attention to brown-eyed but Buck prefers to look at the guitar or he might say something again, and maybe Bobby is a good man, and with the patience of the saint, but he has his limits too, and Buck pushed them enough in the past that almost lost his place in the label. “Only three more lines in the start,” the voice of a jerk playing an angel says and Buck can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Well, looks like they are going to work long together. “Ok, Eddie, give your lyrics to Buck to read. Buck, give Eddie notes to look and Eddie, try to play it. Maybe while you look at the project of the other one it will inspire something. Learn from each other a little. I will go and work in my office, only try to start another fight. I’m serious about ending your careers,” on that Bobby leaves them alone in the studio.

Tagging if they want to share : @honestlydarkprincess @911onabc @alyxmastershipper @transbuck @cowboy-buddie @heartshapedvows @bekkachaos @panbuckley @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @shortsighted-owl @buddierights @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @wikiangela @hippolotamus @transboybuckley @devirnis @spotsandsocks @monsterrae1 @spaceprincessem @userdisaster @caroandcats @mandzuking17 @useramor @paranoidbean @sibylsleaves @jobairdxx @translasso @bigfootsmom and anyone who wants to share

[polarisbibliotheque]

Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 5

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (you are here!)

Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Self-hatred, self-doubt, a lot of blood and difficult emotions going on this chapter. The reader and Vergil face their own selves, seeing them as fragile, hurt, bleeding, frail beings. There's a lot of "I'm not worthy of love" from Vergil too. It all happens after the fight with the Hell Puppeteer, so reader discretion thoroughly advised.

Seriously. If you struggle with themes like these and struggle with imagining yourself hurt/crying/vulnerable and it is too much, I do recommend not reading after the fight. The part where it begins will be in red, and underneath it, things get complicated. Take care of yourself and your mental health! ^^

Special Thanks: To @furyeclipse, the wonderful being who allowed me to use her character, Ovid, and is always helping me write their part properly and screaming over DMC on DMs ^^ You can check out Fury's writing (which I highly recommend) on this link: Fury's Ao3 Author's Notes: Oh, so much going on. The bantering with Vergil. The fighting alongside him. The mind horror of the Abyss. *sighs* jokes aside, I'm loving writing a reader who doesn't make it easy for Vergil. He deserves it for being a brat during blue coat era ;D And I regret nothing regarding the fistfight

Also, last chapter was quite small. Well, this one is quite huge. Buckle up! I hope you guys like it!

Chapter 5

“Perhaps the Abyss is some sort of prison.”

You only realized you muttered your thoughts out loud when Vergil’s eyes diverted from the street ahead to your frame by his side. You looked back at him – you researched on your own and spent most of the time on your company, unused to having someone else alongside you. Speaking to yourself out loud, even if in a murmur, was an acquired trait.

“What do you think?” You tried to conceal that fact pretending you intended to start a conversation. The blue devil didn’t need to know you were a pathetic little being who talked to yourself out of loneliness.

If only you knew back then Vergil did the same, you wouldn’t have felt that awkward about your little slip.

“You tell me, human. After all, you are the one with the source of knowledge on the Abyss.”

You couldn’t hide from your reaction how unsatisfied you were with his answer. Vergil knew he had won that round of bantering.

“Tsc. Every source I’ve found on human arcane libraries haven’t got much information. You probably know it as well.” You rolled your eyes, unsheathing your sword. Something stirred inside your chest and that could only mean the extinct demons were close. “I’m wondering why there’s a Puppeteer inside the Abyss if it was given as extinct an eternity ago.”

“It can be a prison…” Vergil considered back, brooding for a while. He could hear as if it was happening right at that moment: the voice of his mother, calling him from inside the Abyss. If it was indeed a prison, then why would Eva be in there? Would it be the work of Mundus? To make his mother suffer for the act of defiance from his father? Was… Sparda in there too���?

After all those years, Vergil never knew what happened to Sparda. He saw Eva brutally murdered by those demons – and yes, there was a great possibility they had taken her to eternal suffering. Dante was supposed to be dead if she hadn’t gone through all that to save at least him… Only him.

Vergil should’ve died that day: mercilessly sliced by his own sword, his bloody body thrown in a forgotten cemetery while all his memories of a heaven burned to ashes, with only Dante as a survivor. If Vergil’s demon hadn’t awakened that fateful day, he should’ve been dead. It was his father’s blood that saved him, his father’s heritage – something he was infinitely proud of; after all, it was the only thing he had left.

But… What about Sparda? Where was he? Did Mundus’ demons kill him? Did he perish in a fight while trying to keep them away from his family? Did he abandon them…?

Vergil’s greatest strength was also his greatest weakness. He had to stop thinking sometimes – and only his endless pursue of power gave him a little peace of mind.

“It can also be another level of Hell. A deeper one.” He finally emerged from the endless dark water of the ocean in his mind. If he didn’t, Vergil could easily drown.

“Hmmm. How does it open sometimes? It should be like Hell, with many seals and ways to open it.”

“If it is, it was probably sealed by Sparda.” Vergil side-eyed you, hoping to analyze your reaction to his father’s name. Many humans feared him, but many adored him, seeing Sparda as a savior of humanity. Even those who feared were thankful for the devil who protected mankind so many years ago.

“I don’t think so… If Sparda really existed, he locked the gates of Hell. The Abyss keeps opening, so there must be something different about it.” You sighed, not giving much to Vergil other than your words. “Even if it is another level of Hell, it might not be part of what Sparda sealed away. If the legends are true, of course.”

“If…?” The word rolled slowly from Vergil’s tongue, as he kept gazing you. It was the first time he met a skeptic regarding his father’s origin.

“It might be just a bunch of hocus pocus, you know?” You shrugged. “A story to keep children scared and away from dangerous forests, like Hänsel and Gretl. As far as I know, that’s how great legends are born.”

“So you don’t believe in the Legend of Sparda?”

“I never found a piece of evidence that it actually happened.” You noted with an academic air to your speech. Vergil had to hold down the urge to wheeze from your words – after all, you were talking to the greatest evidence that Sparda was real. “I read a lot on books and yes, I do believe Sparda existed. I just… I don’t know if he was as heroic as the tales say he is.”

Vergil pondered your words for a minute before thinking about answering them. Indeed, Sparda was harsh and demanding, but he also knew when to show them love and care. From what he remembered, his father enjoyed the little human things – and how soft it was to touch them all in warm embraces, how magic it was to play fight with him and Dante on the fields, how gently he would caress Eva’s face… How much adoration he carried in his eyes.

When Vergil was a child, Sparda was never the great, heroic demon, savior of humanity – Sparda was his father. With flaws and strengths, he was just… Vergil’s dad.

Not as heroic as the tales said he was – just ordinarily human.

Vergil would have found an answer after mulling over your words if you weren’t both attacked by puppets – humanoid demons, looking like parts of various creatures who were reassembled together, walking in wobbly legs, falling apart at the joints, but attacking viciously with teeth and claws.

You avoided the attack by separating and allowing the demon to stumble between you. Soon, it had no arms left: you and Vergil attacked at the same time, curiously coordinated, slashing the demon apart. As you cut it in half, Vergil took off its head.

“Guess we’re close…” You pointed at the path ahead of you, making Vergil realize how many more puppets stood in your way.

“Try to keep up.”

His voice was arrogant as always, as Vergil plunged into battle. You scoffed, running right after him.

If you weren’t sworn enemies, you would be the perfect match in a fight – no demon would be powerful enough to bring down the both of you in battle, fair or not. Vergil was learning and applying, for quite a while now, the power of concentration over lashing out – but he was indeed aware of all his surroundings, including you.

As the dance of death among the puppets commenced, his silver eyes sometimes would linger a second or two longer than it should in your direction. Your movements, as he observed before, were swift and elegant, but there was something of aggressive. A viciousness picked up after fighting demons for a while – something you didn’t have before. As the days passed, you became increasingly stronger and a match to him.

And quite a match you were indeed – the speed with which your silver sword moved, painted only gleams of bright light between the dark blood of demons spilling on the pavement. Right by your side, the ghost of the Yamato could barely be seen as the blue devil used all his skill to slay as many demons as you – or even more.

Your back found Vergil’s back as you both stood still at the end of the street, finally settling your swords and observing the carnage of demons scattered across the ground. On the other side, the Hell Puppeteer had its soulless black holes meant to be eyes turned to you, the mouth eternally opened in distress, screeching with the loss of its demon army.

“A horde down…”

“One more to go.” Vergil completed your thoughts, slowly turning alongside you towards the Hell Puppeteer.

The ancient demon was at least three times taller than you, but neither you nor the blue devil’s steps faltered while walking towards it. The red mouth gleamed a haunting aura in the cold air of the night, but you and Vergil held your heads tall.

He was the only one who carried as much pride as you did in your steps.

What brought you both to a halt, though, was the sound of dragging. Thousands of things dragging, right behind you. Turning quickly, you and Vergil found all the parts of the demons you had previously slain to be dragging towards each other, grotesquely reassembling in wobbly creatures and screeching towards you once again.

Of course. They were puppets. Killing them wouldn’t be that easy.

“This will take forever at this pace.” Vergil groaned between his teeth, keeping his eyes on the approaching demons.

You sighed: even if you didn’t want to admit, he was right. If those demons really could reassemble and weren’t even alive to begin with, constantly tearing them apart would do nothing. How, then, would you kill something already dead?

As you looked up, quickly searching for the stars to illuminate your thoughts, the red gleam of the Hell Puppeteer – slowly approaching you, with its guttural screech that could haunt the bravest of human hearts – made you notice something you wouldn’t have seen in other circumstances: faint lines in the sky, as if made of the finest and purest glass, falling from behind you towards the little puppets.

With a quick glance, you chuckled within yourself: it was indeed a puppeteer – for those glass strings tied firmly across the dark claws of the Hell Puppeteer.

“Look at the sky.” You pointed out, making Vergil’s silver eyes finally see what you were seeing. “I’m guessing if we cut the strings, they will all fall apart for good. But…” You sighed once again, already attacking one of the creatures who were close enough to hurt you. “There are too many of them. I’m not that quick; the Puppeteer will catch us before we’re done.”

Vergil looked back in a matter of seconds, arriving to the same conclusion as you. There was only one thing he could do, then.

“Stay behind me and don’t move.”

You furrowed your brows, ready to argue with that conceited demon right in front of you. Who did he think he was to talk to you like that? Hadn’t you proved already you were strong enough to beat him in a fair – or even unfair – fight? You had managed to draw his blood. He shouldn’t be that full of himself and patronizing towards you.

Before you could even start to argue, Vergil sheathed the Yamato and, with a snapping sound while his head quickly looked up, the man gave room to a creature with the strike of a blue lightning. You had no words, but there he was: with skin made of black and blue scales, the sheath of the sword as part of his arm, claws instead of nails and horns crowning his head.

You took a few steps back as he took his hand back to the Yamato, flexing his legs in an attacking position you had noticed already he had a preference for. Your feet stopped moving, though, when the air around you seemed to warp. Time itself became denser, almost as if you were under a gelatinous body of water. It was increasingly difficult to breath until he disappeared in the blink of an eye.

With eyes wide, you maintained your feet glued to your place as you only managed to see dark blue figures of warped air and the sharp glimmer of the Yamato cutting everything on its path. The floor underneath your feet trembled slightly and, in a matter of seconds, the blue devil was kneeling in front of you, in a typical position to finish his attack.

As he got up and that devilish form enveloped in a ring of blue light, the man with white hair and silver eyes returned to his human form, finally sheathing the Yamato once again.

And, when he did, all the strings exploded in a million of pieces, cut in a fraction of seconds, falling from the sky like a crystal rain.

All the demons fell to the floor at once – dismembered. Unmoving. Defeated.

You had to admit to yourself, that was a lot more impressive than you had expected. You wanted to scream at how much you hated him: now, you had even more to surpass regarding that stuck up blue demon.

During all your life, you never wanted so bad to stab someone.

“A simple human like you wouldn’t be able to do this not even with years of training.” Vergil fixed the collar of his coat while walking the path towards the shocked and infuriated Hell Puppeteer.

“I don’t need to rely on demonic tricks to be my enemies’ demise.” Your comeback was as quick as his sharp words. “Or I shouldn’t have been able to draw your blood earlier, demon.”

“You did it out of sheer luck, human.” Even though he wanted to throw a murderous glare towards you, Vergil’s silver eyes kept fixed on the Hell Puppeteer. The creature never had its whole army decimated so quickly – it had never been so weak before; and that made it absolutely fuming. “Hadn’t this thing crawled out from its confinement, you would’ve known what real demonic power looks like.”

“Interestingly enough, I am the one with apparent access to the Abyss, not the real demonic power here.”

This time, Vergil couldn’t refrain from stopping right where he was and stare at you – his cold eyes mimicking glaciers, while you held them with pride on your own stare. The Hell Puppeteer didn’t seem to be as entertaining – and important – as winning a stare contest against that stuck up creature.

That was a thought shared between you both.

In the shadows, though, a set of bright and intelligent eyes watched you and Vergil with delight. Ovid reveled in the fact that child of Sparda had found his match – be it in combat or regarding the mind. You were, indeed, a very interesting human to follow; and something about your fearless and proud attitude towards Vergil was infinitely entertaining. After all, not many were brave enough to banter with the blood of Sparda, let alone make him bleed.

A quiet chuckle rolled in the darkness. In Ovid’s ancient eyes, humans were absolutely fascinating and ever-changing creatures that were always in motion, never stopping – so much more exciting than demons.

The Hell Puppeteer didn’t find you fascinating, though. Vergil would chastise you in order to at least try to win that little battle of wits of yours, but the demon wouldn’t just watch in shock with the loss of its puppets. Its claws flew towards you, and that made you both get back into battle.

Anyone who watched you wouldn’t say it was a fight – at least, that’s what Ovid observed in the shadows. It was fun watching you argue, but there was something of classic in the way you both fought alongside each other. It was a dance: a deadly waltz you and Vergil knew the steps quite well. Sometimes he guided, other times you took the lead. But you crossed each other and coordinated attacks in such a graceful and natural manner, it looked like a ballet of death – your hearts in synch, choreographing the steps for your enemy’s demise.

“The hands!” Vergil growled after an attack that made the Puppeteer slightly flinch. “Break the seal, break the power!”

You turned your eyes to the demon’s claws and immediately understood what Vergil meant: it had red glowing bracelets across its wrists, embellished with scriptures of an old language you couldn’t read. But that rule was always clear: whenever a seal was present in the body or around a demon, you had to break it in order to kill or subdue it. That was actually one of the first things ever mentioned on the Codex Daemonica.

Apparently, he did knew it by heart, just like you.

“I’ll get the one on the left! You get the one on the right!”

Vergil would have argued so he wouldn’t really be following a human’s orders, but that was already what he had thought to himself – you just mentioned it faster than him. Of course, you were fighting for your lives, and he wouldn’t be petty to the point of stopping everything to argue about that – but his mind would make sure to keep it noted for future encounters.

During the fight, though, Vergil did notice your body was starting to get tired – you were human, after all. And, even if he was focusing on killing the demon and going back to arguing with you, Vergil did have a sense of honor that you were doing that together. He wouldn’t let you notice, of course, but his next attack was designed so that the Hell Puppeteer would need to lean its left hand on the floor – making things a lot easier for you.

In the distance, Ovid was amused by the spectacle of a human and a demon working together. The blue son of Sparda wasn’t known for kindness, let alone being a team-player – but there he was, in his own way, helping the little human fighting alongside him. Vergil did have a demonic part in his soul, yet, somehow, he was helping this human fight off a creature. Was it for power? For pride? Or something else? It didn’t matter in the end: as tempting as it was to also have the son of Sparda as a study subject, his fixation on his demonic power would be an outlier in their grand experiment results. What a shame, really – it seemed as if, maybe, later in his life, Vergil would come to understand the mixed heritage he was blessed with.

For the moment being, though, Ovid would only note those changes and continue just observing.

The Yamato easily sliced through the seal on the right hand of the Puppeteer, raised in the air as it shrieked and tried to protect its own power – to no avail. Your silver sword found the seal on the left hand, needing a couple of hits to break the seal. Yes, you were tired, and using all your strength to have that fight meet its end. But, as Vergil knew too well, you wouldn’t give up.

The Hell Puppeteer let out a scream you almost had to cover your ears – even Vergil furrowed his brows and felt the sting inside his eardrums. The demon recoiled in a manner that was almost pitiful, but you both knew better and, with resolute steps, side by side, you and Vergil approached the creature now tossed on the ground.

With a swift last blow, you buried your silver sword in its chest while Vergil used the Yamato on its gleaming red mouth. With one last shriek, the Puppeteer burned to ashes until there was nothing left but you two – you with a ragged breath, leaning on your sword, and Vergil somberly quiet.

After a few seconds catching your breaths, though, your eyes met once again.

And you knew.

Vergil tried to run. The Abyss was still open and his chance was finally at his grasp – he could almost feel it touching his fingertips.

But you had made a promise: nothing was to come out and nothing was to go in.

With that in mind, you followed him – holding Vergil by his coat, you pulled him back, trying to hit him with your sword. His answer was swift, and, in the blink of an eye, your silver sword clashed with the Yamato.

The sheer strength of it made your swords fly away from your hands, dancing in the air towards opposite sides.

What a nuisance. That’s what you were in Vergil’s eyes. An incredible, annoying, petty human nuisance. Never in his life he had lost the grip of the Yamato, but there he was. His anger towards you increased as the seconds went by.

And it only became worse when Vergil found himself tossed on the floor, you on top of him, punching his face with your tired – but strong – human hands. His eyes lit with anger; his teeth increasingly sharper. Holding both of your wrists, Vergil tossed you away from him, ready to end you.

Even after everything you did together, he still underestimated your power and your human resilience. You got up faster than he expected – but Vergil still punched you. With wobbly steps, you couldn’t refrain from losing your balance – and he took the opportunity to hit you one more time.

His nails now were as sharp as claws. Turning back to him after protecting the right side of your cheek, Vergil finally saw: he had managed to draw blood. The cut on your cheek bled just like his – and you were finally even for that day.

“I won’t let you go any further.” You managed to mumble while wiping the blood from your face, raising your head to keep a little bit of your pride. You knew you had cut him before, but the fact that he did the same… It made your blood boil.

“You can barely stand…” Vergil answered in the same tone, beginning to feel the tiredness in his bones. He was demonic indeed, and his blood caried a heritage stronger than many others… But Vergil could only take so much. He also needed to rest after a long day – and he was beginning to feel that. “Don’t make me hurt you even more.”

“Don’t make me fatally wound you, stuck up demon.”

Both of you growled, reading your attack positions. Your swords were far away, but it was quite clear you could – and would – get on a fistfight if necessary. With those thoughts, you ran towards Vergil, ready to kick him far away from the Abyss – but, as expected, he too knew martial arts and managed to deflect and try a counterattack.

And Vergil’s demonic side couldn’t hold back a growl of utter annoyance when you deflected expertly and managed to scrape his face with a well-placed punch. In all honesty, he wanted to tie you up on a light post and enter the Abyss at peace so there would be no possibility whatsoever that you would follow him and continue being so annoying.

As the fight went on, that idea became increasingly tempting.

You managed to place a strong kick right on Vergil’s abdomen, making him stumble away from you for a few seconds. Neither of you realized how close you were to the edge of the Abyss; your eyes trained on each other, careful and attentive of whatever move you would make.

Until you heard a voice.

It was a cry, really. Silent. Lonely. Muffled. Buried deep inside the darkness.

Vergil frowned as he saw how much your expression changed – instead of anger and focus, he found a pair of vulnerable wide eyes, almost as if you had seen a ghost.

“Vergil…?”

And your expression was suddenly mirrored on his own face. It was his mother. It was Eva again. Calling him – far away, a ghost of a memory, but still… There. Just like it happened years prior, when he heard her in the Abyss.

You took your eyes away from each other – and you both fell into darkness.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped carefully, not knowing where you were getting yourself into. You didn’t understand what was happening – had you entered the Abyss? Was it reaching out to you? Who was crying…?

The floor was wet. You furrowed your eyebrows. Why were you barefoot? You were wearing your boots before… Weren’t you…?

A dim light could barely light the scene ahead. A frail shape – weak, bony, with their skin looking like it lacked blood underneath – kneeled on the floor, face covered by bloody hands, their back filled with several wounds: some fresh, some still healing.

Shards of a crystal heart were tossed on the floor, covered in blood: they tried desperately to put it back into place, but it kept breaking, over, and over, and over again… The wounds kept opening, the blood kept flowing. They couldn’t get up: they tried, but every time there was progress, they would break once more. Their strength was running out.

Your feet froze and you couldn’t move. That frail creature, that broken heart, that blood… It was you. And you didn’t want to see that. You didn’t want to acknowledge that beaten down creature – the one you would always find whenever you looked in the mirror.

You had broken all your mirrors before. You didn’t want to be forced to look at that.

But other people walked around. People you knew. People who left. They would look at that broken human and ignore – forget it existed.

In the end, you were always on your own.

You had to get out. You didn’t know where you were, but you had to get out.

Vergil didn’t have to walk too far to find himself in the dark – not able to see even his own hands in front of him. Everything he heard was his mother’s voice quietly crying, calling for him. Begging for his help.

“Is that you, my son…? Can you help me…?”

“Yes. I am coming for you.” He muttered under his breath, not knowing if she could hear him or not.

“But… Why did you leave me…?”

As soon as he heard that voice, Vergil’s whole body froze – his eyes as wide as the silver moon. He knew who said that. He heard that before.

Slowly turning around, Vergil felt the scorching heat gradually hitting his face. The amber inferno of a starless night, coming back again to haunt him.

“Why… Why did you leave me, mom…?” And Vergil found himself. Tossed on the grass of that godforsaken graveyard, blood on his mouth, his hands, his whole body; his life slowly slipping away from his soul. “Don’t… Don’t you love me too…? Am I… A bad son…?”

Fucking hell. He was a child. He was only a child. Vergil stared at himself trying to claw away from the demons who cackled at his dying state, dragging his almost dead body as far as he could. His eyes were red, raining with tears, his nails broken and stained with dirt. His hands… They were so tiny compared to how big they were right now. The Yamato was almost as big as him – and now, it could look like a toy in Vergil’s hands.

He was so small. So… Vulnerable.

“Am I not… Worth saving… Mom…?”

Vergil couldn’t see that anymore. He couldn’t help. He couldn’t grab his own hand and slay those demons – that was not how it happened. He died that day, and his demonic heritage saved him. The demon had awakened, and he managed to save himself.

No one came. No one appeared. He wasn’t loved, he wasn’t protected, and he would have to save himself in other to survive. That was it.

“Please… Don’t leave.”

Vergil couldn’t make out who said those words: if it was his younger self or his mother. But one thing was sure – he had to get out. He couldn’t stay. Or he wouldn’t survive.

The floor trembled once more under both of your feet. You lost your balance and fell to the floor while Vergil kneeled in order to remain anchored somehow.

Light and color gradually came back to your worlds – and, as you found yourselves lit up by the moon once again, you realized you were still close to the edge of the Abyss; still beside each other, even if far apart.

When you met his eyes, for the first time, you found a hint of vulnerability. Those silver moons stared at you with the same distress you looked at him. None of you knew what to do – after all, you were in the middle of a fight. Should you attack? Should you run? Should you… Search for solace in each other…?

Before any of those thoughts could be answered, the floor trembled once again, making nearby buildings collapse. You rolled even farther apart, and your path to each other was blocked by heavy pieces of concrete.

The Abyss was closed once again.

**

To be continued...

[cowboygenesis]

6: aisle 7 | kylo ren x reader

part 6 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist.

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: explicit language, vague sexual imagery. word count: 4.3k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: here comes the internal conflict. have you ever considered why the line between hatred and love is so thin? i don't really understand that saying, so please don't ask me! i just love the feeling of yearning. any yearners? lovers? surely..... btw, have you guys seen adam driver in 'burn this'? where he's wearing that leather jacket? yes. YES, that is exactly how i imagine him in this chapter. enjoy!

The cool LEDs burn into your retinas, urging you to sigh in exasperation as a quiet pop song plays from the overhead speakers. You think you wouldn’t be so overstimulated if it were Destiny’s Child or TLC instead of Nelly Furtado—there was something viscerally wrong about playing ‘Maneater’ at a busy supermarket on a Friday evening.

“What else do we need?” Rey pipes up, her hands resting against the handle of your shopping cart. She looks along the shelves as you walk through the baked goods section, humming quietly.

“Coffee,” a deep voice announces in that usual, flat lilt, making you roll your eyes before your eyes even meet his silhouette. Kylo walks to Rey’s left, donning a black leather jacket and equally filmy eye bags.

Ever since you found out about Sienna, you’ve kept yourself at a distance. You had no concrete evidence to suggest she was his ex until you heard him barking at someone through the phone one night. You were sneaking off into the bathroom when you heard her name fall from his lips. You’d like to say it was filled with resignation, but there was something else there, too. If you didn’t know any better, you might have called it longing.

The phone calls kept coming for a few days. Sometimes, while the three of you happened to share a meal together, you’d watch Kylo’s phone vibrate against the table repeatedly until he’d excuse himself with a low growl. You and Rey would exchange glances, but you never probed her about it. You were still too preoccupied with the glances he had started sending you since your awkward bathroom encounter, a memory that had caused you to avoid him whenever possible.

But it proved to be a challenge when you noticed that he stayed around the apartment more frequently. No more early morning errands or late night escapes, save for the few times he’d visit a cafe to work on his laptop. Besides that, you caught him typing away on his couch every other day, which is also when the stares would occur most. It was much more tolerable while Rey was around to distract you with her jokes or work drama, but when she left, you prayed for salvation.

Another point of confusion was his sudden onset of silence. It was rare for you to speak to each other, and when a conversation did occur, he was annoyingly cordial. His stare probed your form, and his lips curled into that usual smirk as you tried to make sense of your newfound reality. Sometimes, you thought his frontal lobe had finally finished cooking, meaning he was done arguing with you over menial matters.

Sometimes you worried his passiveness came from something much more sinister. You often thought back to that one night you touched yourself thinking of his body, and how you cried his name into your pillow. Part of you believed he might have heard you, albeit foolishly. The chances of that were close to zero, yet not quite—just enough to make you go red whenever you’d lie in bed, awake, thinking of your sinful deed.

A sinful deed you knew never to repeat.

“Are we doing takeout tonight?” you question, popping a bubble with your gum. The minty taste had long disappeared, but you nevertheless enjoyed it for the sake of satiating your oral fixation.

“No,” Rey replies with a sigh, stopping the cart by a shelf of baguettes. “We already did takeout yesterday. Once a week, remember?”

You huff, stuffing your fingers into the back pockets of your jeans—your favorite pair you had grabbed from a charity shop one weekend. It made your ass look good, and that's usually all you could ask for from pants. “I wasn’t even there.”

Rey brushes your question off with a shrug, never turning your way as she searches for the perfect loaf of bread. Meanwhile, you catch Kylo’s gaze rising from his phone screen. You hadn’t even noticed him take it out. “If you pay, then I’m sold.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes, forcefully moving your gaze away. “Nevermind, then.”

Your fingers mindlessly tap an unpacked stack of hot dog bun boxes when he snorts. When your eyes reluctantly meet his, he’s looking at his phone again with a ghost of a smirk. “Spoiled.”

“ I’m spoiled?” you echo incredulously, tapping your chest while your eyes widen. His mouth opens through a grin, but just as he’s about to retort, Rey turns to you with two baguettes in her hand.

“Can we do our groceries in peace?” she pleads quietly, placing the bread in your cart before returning to the handle. She pushes it ahead, and you continue walking by her side. “You two can argue all you like once we’re done.”

“I didn’t wanna be like that,” you sigh, lips quirking into a tiny smile, “but he started it.”

He turns to you mid-walk, nose scrunched as he returns his phone to his back pocket. “What are we, twelve?”

“One of us might be.”

“Oh my god,” Rey quips, her face deadpan as you turn toward the fresh produce aisle. “One more word from either of you and I’m out.”

“You heard her,” Kylo nods toward you lazily, and you huff in return. You wrap your fingers around the ledge of the cart, glancing at the array of fruits and vegetables that line the alley. The store must have gone through a restock, as most crates are filled to the brim.

“What do you guys fancy?” Rey pipes up, stopping the cart again to peruse the selection of berries packed in plastic boxes. She tilts her head, tracing her fingers over a bright green plaque. “Maybe we’ll try the bananas? They’re half-off today.”

“Pass,” you hear Kylo murmur, his voice quiet enough to nearly drown under the thrum of chatter and background music—but you catch it.

“What was that?” you question flatly, turning to him as you approach a crate filled with unique, imported produce. You run your finger down the skin of a dragonfruit, feeling out the triangular divots.

He meets your gaze with a deadpan expression, skimming over your face for a second before crossing his arms. “Nothing.”

Your head tilts, and you give him a look. Your eyebrow rises high, poking at him with a certain trepidation. Unknowingly, the corner of your mouth curls. “Too pedestrian for your delicate palate, Ren?”

“He’s picky,” Rey chimes in, keeping her attention on the produce. You wonder if she’s trying to give you an explanation or support your cause of teasing her brother.

“You’re pushing it,” Kylo hums, his tone stern when his gaze meets Rey’s. It’s devoid of mirth, like the tease has gone over his head completely.

“Am I wrong?” She retorts while you reach for one of the fruit. Its deep, wine-red color attracts your hand, wrapping your hands around the girth.

“How about,” you begin, extending your arm toward Kylo. The fruit sits in your palm, making the man stare down at you with a raised brow as you give him a wild grin, “a pomegranate?”

His expression turns deadpan. You watch his hand extend toward yours, grabbing the sphere from your hand and tossing it back in its crate. “That’s a beet.”

The tiny ‘oh’ that leaves your lips seems to go unnoticed as Rey turns to you both with a head of broccoli in each hand. “Oh my god, can we just get apples and go?”

“I’ve been saying,” You exhale sharply, shrugging off any semblance of mischief you’ve been feeling before you reach for the bag of apples. Their waxy surface shines from beneath the yellow net as you place them in your cart, briefly eyeing the rest of the produce. You’ve made little progress, and it’s been half an hour already.

The three of you keep trailing down the sleek, white tile, passively loading the cart with various products. Tea, coffee, biscuits, and a nice bottle of wine to suit your evening food regimen. Kylo had insisted on a red, but you and Rey teamed up to overthrow his decision, settling on a pinot grigio.

As you place the wine into your cart, Rey folds her arms over her chest and purses her lips.

“By the way,” she begins, toying with the hem of her sleeve. Kylo is still eyeing the selection of liqueur, fingers grazing over bottles you hadn’t ever dreamed of buying. Sometimes you forget the guy was (probably) loaded. “I was thinking we switch up the regimen today.”

At that, you and Kylo turn to Rey with raised brows. While you clashed frequently, the one thing you could both agree on is keeping things in line.

“How about we cook together?” Rey finally offers, her hands clasping together as if she knew she’d have to plead with you.

Kylo is the first to utter, his face deadpan when he meets his sister’s gaze. “Absolutely not.”

“Over my dead body,” you add flatly, struggling not to throw a glare at Kylo. While you didn’t hate the idea, something within you stirred when he disagreed so promptly. All you could do now is follow the narrative and hope that you could avoid another argument. After all, you almost clashed at the dairy aisle over the best type of yogurt to have with granola. It was starting to feel ridiculous, even for you.

“C’mon, you guys,” Rey huffs, her tone shifting into that familiar, tight lilt you imagine a parent would use with their misbehaving children. Sometimes that’s the dynamic you feel you’re forced into. “I think it’d be fun.”

“He’s insufferable,” you explain, arms crossing as you pretend to pick a product off the shelf and read its label.

“She’s incompetent.”

“Incompetent?!” you twirl around, eyebrows furrowed when you meet Kylo’s gaze. He’s standing there, poking his cheek with his tongue and raising both eyebrows at your frustrated form as if he was surprised at your bewildered disagreement.

Rey groans, rubbing at her temples as the two of you exchange murderous glares. “It’s literally just chopping vegetables.”

“I do not trust this woman with a knife,” Kylo utters, his voice low and biting. For a second, you could almost catch his jaw tightening, like the image of you wielding a weapon was humorous. You try your best not to think of the incident with the salad spoon.

“Smartest thing you’ve said all day,” you quip back, curling your lips into a mocking smile that Kylo returns. You think he’s about to bite back, when Rey interrupts you once more.

“Oh my god, whatever,” she slumps her shoulders, pushing the cart forward with an extra pep in her step. “Let’s just do pasta and decide who cooks once we get home.”

“We always do pasta,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything.

“Quiet, you,” Rey snaps, but her tone seems jollier now that the three of you are back on business. With the bulk of the shopping done, you’d be able to leave this sensory hellhole soon enough. “I’ll take care of the sauce, you two find us a pa—”

“I’ve got it,” you announce, quickly bee-lining to the nearest aisle. You turn for just a moment to find Kylo’s curious gaze, pointing a finger at him with your best attempt of a warning glare. “Don’t follow me.”

He tilts his head, but the glint in your eyes leaves you feeling unsteady, like he’s still undecided if following you would be a worthwhile endeavor. You mentally reprimand yourself for giving a shit.

“Wait, just don’t get spaghetti! It won’t work with the sauce!” Rey calls to you, and you wave at her in acknowledgment before disappearing between the shelves.

You don’t even notice your pulse has quickened before you’re finally left alone. With a long, deep breath, you let your shoulders slump as you traverse down the aisle of tin cans and jars. If it wasn’t for the fact Kylo was around to pounce at you so often, you think you’d actually enjoy this trip. It was rare for you and Rey to make time to collaborate on groceries, so you’d love to see this evening as quality time.

Your plans are immediately poured down the drain once you sense a familiar presence behind you. A shiver rises up your spine before you even turn around, but once you do, you can’t help the groan that leaves your lips at the mess of raven locks trailing behind you.

“Oh my god,” you huff, turning back ahead to lose sight of his taunting gaze. “Are you serious?”

You hear him click his tongue as you pass an elderly couple. You catch them eye you for a second, the woman’s lips curling into a pleasant smile as her gaze darts between you and Kylo. You return her pleasantries with your a smile of your own, but inwardly, you’re cringing at the implication being made.

“Miss me?” Kylo chuckles, his voice velvety. It’s enough to make you want to strangle him, but out of respect for the other shopgoers, you decide to save it for later.

“Didn’t I just tell you to not follow me?” you hiss, glancing at the signs dangling off the ceiling in search of your desired aisle.

“Did I agree?” He replies from behind, still on your heels as you finally spot the dried goods section.

You sigh, slowing your pace to eye the various brands of pasta that stretch on the shelves in front of you. Momentarily, you catch his gaze on you in your peripheral.

“Leave, Kylo.”

“I need to approve your choices,” he shrugs casually, and you roll your eyes, making sure he sees your displeasure. It proves to be a rookie mistake, as each instance of annoyance you show seems to fuel his energy, like he’s some fucked up, unsexy iteration of an incubus.

“You’re evil,” you mutter under your breath, grabbing one of the boxes that appeal to you. The label reads ‘farfalle’, placed just above a small, plastic window revealing a glimpse of your favorite pasta shape. You place it under your elbow before you turn to Kylo again, deadpanning at his self-satisfied smile. “An evil dictator ruining the sanctity of this grocery store.”

“I’m just doing my job,” he shrugs again, eyeing the box you had picked out before pointing. “You picked the wrong pasta.”

You gawk at him, lips ajar. You hear yourself mutter something, but the frustration in your system makes the words come out as an incomprehensible gurgle. Once you see his smile deepen into a teasing grin, you finally force your vocal cords to utter. “There is no wrong pasta, dude!”

“She asked for rigatoni, dude ,” he mocks, his eyes sharp as they scan down your form. “You’d have known if you didn’t run off like the little hellcat you are.”

You stay silent as he steps forward. For a second, you feel your breath still before his hand extends to grab the box from you. You glare as he places it back on the shelf, turning to you with glittering eyes.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, scanning the shelf for rigatoni.

“Am I though?” he counters through a chuckle, crossing his arms. You’re starting to miss the short period of time he’d keep to himself. “You seem to enjoy my company.”

“Enjoy?” you laugh dryly, “Try endure .”

He places a dramatic hand over his heart, sucking in air through his teeth. “Ouch.”

“Suck it,” you mutter, letting Kylo live out his theatrics. It’s times like this you’re made to regret ever seeing anything in him, whether it was his face, or his body. He wasn’t unattractive by any means, but his personality often spoiled any semblance of potential.

When you feel your cheeks heating up, you clear your throat and grab a box of rigatoni from a brand you like. Once again, you place it under your elbow and glance at Kylo, pointing at the pasta half-heartedly. “There, rigatoni. Happy now?”

He shrugs, head tilted as he briefly eyes your choice.

“Oh!” you exclaim, pushing the box against Kylo’s chest. The pasta rattles inside when he catches it, looking at you with a quirked brow.

“Wha—”

“Take this back, I’ll be a second,” you quickly explain, eyes bright when you wave him off. Without waiting for an answer, you book it down the aisle, disappearing between the tall shelves. The last thing you hear is Kylo’s deep voice calling your name, frustrated—you think it serves him well.

Most people have already done their due diligence and gone home, so the store is looking more and more empty by the minute. Your neck cranes as you look through the signs again. In the background, a song from Rex Orange County plays.

As you turn the corner, you’re met with a small, secluded shelf filled with baking retail. Boxes of cake mix, colorful cupcake liners, and an impressive assortment of sprinkles fill your vision, giving you brief vertigo. You duck slightly, biting your bottom lip in search of what you’re looking for, but all you’re met with is a row of extracts and aromas. You huff, craning your neck to the top shelf.

And there they are. Sitting in a half-opened cardboard box, you spot a variety of birthday candles—some shaped like numbers, others swirling into simple, neat sticks of wax.

You huff, lifting your hand, but your fingers don’t even skim the plastic packaging. You strain, groaning softly at the burn emerging in your triceps, but still—you’re nowhere close to nearing your prize.

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, eyebrows squeezed as you get on the tiptoes of your sneakers. They squeal against the shiny tiles, making you wince when you realize your efforts are entirely in vain.

“Need help?” comes a familiar baritone, his voice grazing at your spine and forcing you to teeter over the verge of frustration again. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is, it’s clear with how your body reacts.

“No,” you huff, stretching your fingers further and refusing to meet his gaze as he approaches, “Didn’t I tell you to take the rigatoni back?”

“I did,” he replies plainly, taking a step closer. Your gaze flickers to his hands, and indeed, they’re empty.

Yet he still came back for you.

The thought, albeit short-lived, makes the hairs on your neck stand as a dull shiver passes through your body.

“Why’d you come back?” you mutter, rapping your fingers against one of the shelves you can reach so you can take a rest.

You catch him hesitate for a moment, his gaze flickering down your extended arm, then down to the spot where your shirt rises to reveal part of your belly. Suddenly, he’s making you feel vulnerable again with his penetrating gaze alone.

“Come on,” he finally utters, nodding his head forward. “I’m actually fucking starving.”

“Then leave ,” you sigh, finally turning to look at him. He’s standing close enough that you have to crane your neck just slightly to meet his dark gaze. His posture is loose, but there’s something about the way his jaw tightens that makes your stomach twist. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

He hums, tilting his head. “Sure doesn’t seem that way.”

Your eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

Kylo gestures toward the shelf beside you, where the box of candles remains stubbornly out of reach. His smirk is slow and lazy, the kind that makes your fingers twitch with the sudden urge to smack it off his face.

“What do you need these for?”

Your eyebrows furrow at him, eyes widening like you’re asking if he’s joking. “They’re birthday candles, Ren. Go figure.”

Your nostrils flare as you turn back toward the shelf, indifferent to his reply. You don’t need the asshole’s help.

You stretch again, this time pressing up onto the very tips of your toes, ignoring the way your abs tighten. Your fingers graze the bottom of the box—just barely. You’re so close to getting it. Maybe if you just flick it off the shelf, or— If you jump , maybe—

But before you can try, Kylo moves.

He steps in behind you, broad chest just shy of brushing your back. One of his hands reaches past you, the soft cashmere of his emerging sleeve brushing your cheek before he plucks the candles from the shelf with infuriating ease.

His body isn’t quite touching yours, but the space between you is thin. If you moved just an inch, you knew you’d collide.

So you freeze in place, like a deer caught in the headlights. Despite yourself, you breathe in deeply, your chest thrumming with warmth as your nose fills with the concoction of his scent: fresh, crisp pine, soft musk, and just the slightest hint of vetiver.

He’s so warm. You hate that you can tell.

Kylo lowers the box of candles into your line of sight, holding it just inches away. You manage to shake off your daze just enough to realize the situation you’re in, but when you go to grab it, he pulls it back.

You’re forced to turn.

Your gazes meet.

You’ve always thought his eyes are brown. But now, as you stand chest to chest, you notice the speckles of green and gold within his iris—thin, housing a blown-out pupil that taunts you with its size. His plush lips part just slightly, urging a warm, minty breath to spill onto your face.

You think you’re floating with the tingling in your legs. To avoid succumbing to the numbness, you lean against the shelf. It digs into your hip, and Kylo inches forward.

His face leans in, drawing the breath from your lungs. If you wanted to, I mean, really wanted to, you could lean in now and feel his lips on yours. You could do it. You could kiss Kylo Ren, and regret it for the rest of your life.

“Say please,” he utters, his voice a thick gravel that makes you bite back a gasp.

He knows what he’s doing, the smug bastard, and yet your pulse still skips against your will. He’s boxed you in, one arm catching the grate of the shelf while the other taunts you with your box of candles. Suddenly, you think the effort wasn’t worth it.

“No,” you croak out, scowling even as your stomach twists itself into complex knots.

Kylo lifts a brow, thick lashes brushing over his speckled cheeks when he blinks. “Come on.”

You press your lips into a tight line, feeling your heartbeat trickle into your ears and then elsewhere. Your thighs squeeze involuntarily, and when you wince, you hope he doesn’t notice.

You exhale sharply, resisting the urge to shove him with your jittering digits. “ Never .”

His jaw tightens, but the rest of his face softens almost imperceptibly. The knit of his brows dissolves, and his lips come ajar slightly when he whispers. “Say it for me.”

Your throat tightens at his lilt. It’s honeyed, cradling your confusion-addled mind with something akin to pleasure. And the heat between your legs grows. Fuck, you should withdraw—push him, pull away, what have you—

But you don’t. Not when he sounds so damn good in your ear.

“Kylo,” you whisper, just loud enough to catch his attention. His eyes flicker over your face, starting at your parted lips and ending at your half-lidded eyes.

“Hm?”

The hum rattles through your ribs, nearly strong enough to dissolve your resolve. But not quite.

You grit your teeth, glaring into his smugness as your nails leave crescents on your palms. His jaw tightens again, watching you with glittering eyes. For a second, you feel like the hatred between you dissolves for just a second. “Please.”

His lips twitch. You tilt your head when he doesn’t move.

“Again.”

“What?” you gawk, eyebrows furrowing as the hatred slowly trickles back in. You should have known he wouldn’t let go this easily. Suddenly, you feel like a fool.

“Say it again,” he repeats with a slow, deliberate smirk. The air between you thickens, so tense you can almost feel the buzzing in your ears.

Your voice drops, nearing a hiss. “I already did .”

“And?” His head tilts slightly, gaze flickering to your mouth. The notion makes you want to sink into the tiles below. “Didn’t sound like you meant it.”

Your fingers twitch, aching to rip the damn box from his hands. But you know you can’t. He towers over you, broad and tall and so fucking confident. You hate that about him—how he always manages to pull. Sometimes you worry that one day, your resolve will snap.

“Kylo,” you grit, warning, but he doesn’t budge.

Your pulse pounds so hard you feel it in your ears. He’s pushing you, and whichever god might help, you feel yourself giving in.

The word slips past your lips before you can think.

“ Please .”

There’s a beat of buzzing silence. You don’t dare move, watching his Adam’s apple bob with a thick swallow.

And then, he places the box in your hand. But instead of letting go right away, his fingers brush over your knuckles, loose enough for you to escape had you wanted to. He leans in even closer, his nose brushing against your earlobe. Your breath catches when he gravels out.

“ Good girl. ”

And finally, your breath hitches. It’s audible, carrying in the air between you when he slowly draws back. There’s a small, self-satisfied grin painting his lips, making a mockery of the way your face burns.

“Fuck you,” you mutter, voice tight and shaking when it reaches his ears. And he relishes the way you falter. Relishes the way your eyes glaze over when he backs away, taking all the warmth with him.

“Touchy,” he shrugs, and the familiar word sinks into your stomach like a boulder. You feel incapacitated, while he manages to walk it off just fine.

And he does. Before your trembling lips can utter, he’s moving down the aisle.

He turns to you one last time, his eyes flickering with something completely devastating—Warmth.

“See you outside,” he chuckles.

And then, you’re alone.

[bitegore]

🍄♻️🤔

🍄Describe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “_ + =__”

okay for the sake of my fucking sanity i am NOT going to presume I get any real wiggle room here. or i will do another 400 line proof. because it is fun but oh my god it takes so long.

((Felyx + Taran)(Rex + Haven + Taran) + fake dating)^spite = fireworks

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP(s)

not sure it qualifies as a "wip" because I haven't actually decided to pull it out of the graveyard of abandoned-works out-of-progress yet - call it a wip-aspirational or something lol - but the more I poke at Haven and Taran's actual story the more fun I have thinking about siccing Rex on the two of them. In like 2020 or 2021, so, a good while ago at this point and at a time I'd describe myself as "rusty" I started working on whatever the worst version of a meetcute is (ending in the equation above) lol. If I recall correctly my endgame then was that the three of them would fall into a stable orbit. I think that's kind of silly now. They're not that kind of people.

other scrapped idea, same story: Rex and Taran were meant to get along. That's not happening. It's a lot funnier if Rex and Haven (both deeply, deeply difficult people to get along with who hate accommodating for other people) can find a way to coexist pleasantly but Taran, resident NormalGuy who is extremely accustomed to unpleasant asshole bullshit, genuinely cannot get over Rex's various fuckeries beyond, like, the civility of "I recognize that you are living in my house now because the other person who lives here really likes you, and I don't want to have a screaming match in my own fucking kitchen." I tend to make Rex tolerable to speak to when I write him on his own because it's narratively difficult to use a protagonist who will just spit anything handed to him in someone else's face, but in this particular setup he is actively attempting to get Taran's genuine actual hatred on purpose because he's under the impression that's the goal and he's having fun with it also, so it lets me just make him a huge cunt asshole too which is more fun than having him show any scraps of humanity anyway :D

ok let me come up with something you have actual interest in lol

The Rex & Casey conversation fic I was working on ran into an unrecoverable roadblock (I decided the premise needed work) and has to be restarted in a different place with a slightly different version of Casey (tragic!), so one of the things I had to scrap to keep it rolling is Rex commenting on the color of the sky. It's really sad for me because I always think it's funny when you have a guy In a hell dimension like "damn... this place is weird.... the sky isn't bright red, it's eerie". But I can't justify The Story bringing Rex into The Real World as a Plot Element now that I know more about how it works, so I

......

Aha. Well. Actually. I can't justify Alan using The Story to bring Rex into The Real World, because I know how he works. Might have fixed my opinion on my own premise.

We'll see, I'll sleep on it. It needs to cook longer anyway. I also realized (aw2 spoilers) (for serious) (skip this paragraph now if you havent at least finished the first run of the game) if it happens in The Story In The Real World it's got to be situated between Saga's first time going through the loop with Alan and the Final Draft, but I still haven't found enough time to watch t full playthrough of Final Draft, so I'm sure when I hit Zane's part in there and then endgame I'll know a bit more about the direction I want to take.

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet

Anything like that I have, either it's so busy being a concept I cannot write it yet, or I've started it just to make sure I won't forget it XD so it's hard to come up with. And most of the concepts are less "this is the kind of story I want to write", so much as "this is the kind of effect I want it to have". You know. I want to write something ~mind-bending~ or I want to ~do talking animals but cool~ or whatever.

A lot of words to say I'm drawing a huge blank on this question.

I think - and this is something I keep approaching with different stories but not leaning into, because, frankly, I'm the first line of concept-check for myself, and i get bored - I'd really like to try a story that works as one extended record-scratch. You start at the very end, in a scene that means basically nothing to anyone, and then in the events of reading the entire rest of the story you get more and more context until the very end of the book is the exact same scene as the first part, like, down to the description, and then it just loops infinitely. Something you could read spiral-binding style so it doesn't really have a "start" or an "end", just points between chapters with cardboard so you can close it anywhere, if it's a physical book. you know, some experimental shit.

Unfortunately I find time loops boring as hell to write. This would be ONE loop, so it'd maybe be better, but I'm still kind of burnt on being willing to touch another timeloop from how badly I did not enjoy the one I wrote for an exchange like two full calendar years ago. And also I do have other things to be doing.

That's also not a story! That's a plot structure! I might as well say I want to write The Hero's Journey for all it really tells you 😂 at my heart I'm a parodist, I'm going to need to see someone do it wrong and decide to do a better job than they did to really get a fire lit for an actual narrative here. I do love me some themes of insurmountable stupid bullshit you put yourself into on purpose because you decided you could surmount it and then discovered you couldn't, and some futile attempts at some stupid shit for retroactively-really-dumb reasons that weren't worth it, so it'll have that. as seasoning. because what is a permanent stable timeloop but one person committing suicide over and over? I'm only really able to approach the properly frozen-in-sequence ones as either Hand Of God (boring) or Sunk Cost Fallacy On Steroids (fun! interesting! miserable in a slightly unusual way!) so...

....well, it's going to have to keep simmering, because I like what I've got in the broth, but there's no meat in there yet, only spices. It would make a terrible meal right now. But it answers the question, I think.

[straydogkins]

General reading for Rei Skauma

General disclaimer: I hope these make sense to you, but you always know yourself best what is and isn't true to you and your canon. As per usual we rolled three times and asked for a general reading of your timeline.

As always: Please heed the TW's in this, part three talks about vague feelings of self hatred and separation of ones identity.

The Shufflemancy says...

HOWLING by odotter FT Hatsune Miku and Gumi | Lyrics

Howling is a song about a werewolf who is portrayed by Gumi (I am assuming she's a werewolf based on the lyrics and music video) and a Vampire portrayed by Miku (I am assuming again based on the music video and lyrics). The song goes on to show them 'hunting' the other by using their natural instincts.

My analysis:

You (probably as the vampire- although maybe not in the literal sense) and someone else (there werewolf) were probably in a heated and intense relationship, I can't say if it was long term or not based on this song alone.

Ngl this is funny to me because of Koga's mere existence, however I don't want this to be the only thing that points to a possible romantic relationship between the two of you- You know yourself best and so forth.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Regretful Promise by Spores-P ft Gumi | Lyrics

This song is about being manipulated and lied to, told from the perspective of a princess who was tricked into giving him her soul for three months. The demon then starts killing people she's close to (including her family) in an attempt to guilt trip her into staying with him forever. Although this song is specifically about her running away from the demon and plotting to be free from him.

My analysis:

From my POV this could link you being in a situation where you wanted to (and eventually did) run from which felt like your soul was literally sold and/or trapped by whomever you sold it to.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

ENEMY by Dasu ft Kagamine Len | Lyrics

This song used to have an offical meaning, while the document has been deleted while looking around online, I found that it might represent the inner psyche of a boy who hates himself and his thoughts, seeing them as an 'enemy' to himself and being hateful towards that part of him.

My analysis: I don't think you liked yourself (or at least a part of you) very much. You probably viewed yourself as a problem or an 'enemy' to those around you. You couldn't understand that side to you or why it would do the things it did.

As a disclaimer this song isn't about being a system (as far as I know), however in psychology it's common to separate yourself into different 'parts' which is what I believe this song is referring to.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Overall analysis

From this reading I'd say you had a romance that was very strong, was manipulated and hurt by someone (or something like a cooperation) and because of that you didn't like the part of you that allowed these things to happen.

Honestly these are all very different and vague topics, so you would know best what they all mean but that's the general vibes I'm getting.

[murmiss]

A little sketch of Dead by daylight, found in my old sketches. I think I'll continue it later if you like it. (I don't know if this can be considered an introductory chapter.)

Shadow

Pairing - Evan Maccmillan/Reader, Danny Olsen/Reader, Bubba Sawyer/Reader, Anna the huntress /Reader, Herman Carter/Reader, mostly killer/reader, and a little survivor/reader.

Summary:

The entity is a brutal creature, drawing more and more new victims into its game. It feeds on despair and fear, anger and tears. But what if the "Shadow" is beyond the Essence's control? What if there, where everyone sees the emptiness, lies a light that can pull them out of despair?

We're talking about Y/N Rogers, the "White Crow," accustomed since childhood to loneliness and fear and the spirits that haunt her.

English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes!

Part one

The fog is a slimy substance of fear, despair and hatred. Everyone who entered it disappeared. Gone without a trace. It was as if such a person had never existed. Or maybe there really wasn't. Maybe it's all just a fantasy of an evil mind. A cruel joke, or else a fake.

Stupid game of someone's sick imagination, a parasite that sucks all the juices along with your despair. "Fog" - that's what everyone calls this disgusting place. But what is fog? A dimension with a bunch of twisted and bloodthirsty maniacs who take your life time after time. But what if I told you that for someone, death is the only way out?

A beautiful baby girl was born. What a shame no one wanted her... "A child born to save a marriage" is the most common name given to such children. After all, it is better to "recreate" a new life than to deal with one's own. That's what Jack and Malena Rogers thought. Oh! The memories of their first meeting are as fresh as yesterday. They met at one of the university parties. Jack asked Malena, for a dance, then invited her back to his place, and everything spun and spun and spun. It seemed like love at first sight! A passionate and ardent love, engaging in a hot tango. A month later, the wedding, honeymoon, and everything seemed to be going uphill, and bam...

Cold. Feelings went out. Faded as rapidly as they flared up at their first meeting. Malena saw the only way out of this situation in Internet forums, where women with similar marital problems advised each other on all sorts of crazy things. And one of those things was "have a baby. An unknown person under the nickname "MisisAllens" talked on her blog about the "tragic story of a relationship" that was "heroically saved" by their child. And now, finally, it's decided: They want the baby!

The pregnancy was going hard, the Toxicosis was extremely painful, and the baby kept trying to be born ahead of its due date. What was Rogers' disappointment when, instead of fervent feelings, came screaming, diapers and snot, and the beautiful figure was flaunted not by tight dresses, but by extra pounds. Jack was no longer attracted to his wife, which caused him to have a mistress or two, hardly ever going home, leaving Malena alone with herself, self-loathing, and a month-old daughter...

-Shut up already! - Pillows and plush toys flew in the direction of the crib. The young mother was jumping between rooms, trying to get everything done in time for her husband's arrival. To which the baby began to yell louder and louder, causing the woman to become even more hysterical. Unable to endure, Malena slumped against the wall, rolled smoothly to the floor, jerked the headscarf off her head, and sobbed, whispering only words of hatred.

"I hate... I hate... I hate you!! "

The first couple of years were also difficult. The girl grew up extremely nervous, reacting to negative attitudes in the family. Jack's carousing was wearing Mrs. Rogers down, and with her hatred of her husband, her hatred of the child grew. Malena did not want to see this child, rejecting the very fact of his existence :- "Covering your eyes with a rag ." And as she grew older, nothing changed. Not counting Jack, of course. In a couple of years, the gorgeous blond hair was replaced by a classic smoothed haircut that hid the rare baldness, and the Inflated body was replaced by a tummy. Instead of lovers he was now interested only in his career, his wife, and nothing else.

After some time in the Rogers family another daughter was born, Susie, a truly angelic child. The birth went easily, Susie literally "swept through," in less than two hours, bringing great joy to her parents. On seeing Susie, Mrs. Rogers immediately blossomed, hugging the newborn affectionately, kissing her chubby cheeks, and Mr. Rogers, sobbing, hugged his beautiful women.

And so the family had a favorite. Upon noticing Susie, all the neighbors blurted out a smile: "If it isn't Sunny, there she is!" Little Sue, unlike her sister, was "perfect at everything": she sang, danced, and even drew. Everyone admired her: "God's gift! God's gift." - Everyone adored the little girl. And while "Swan" blossomed before her eyes, bathed in everyone's love, "White Crow" survived her despair by making friends with loneliness.

-Mama! Mama!" - the girl ran after her mother, tugging at the hem of her long apron, trying to get attention, but the woman did not respond. Then the girl, not noticing no reaction, jumped up to her father, who was sitting on the couch in the living room with a Playboy magazine in his hands. Standing in front of her father, the girl abruptly snatched the precious magazine from her father's hands and ran off with a loud laugh, expecting her father to chase after her, but he did not. Jack, without making a sound of indignation, took out the remote control and turned on the television, changing channels busily. But even then, a feeling of intense longing gripped the child's mind and heart. Turning around, she slowly, staggering, made her way to the couch, placed the crumpled magazine on the couch, and took one last look at her father with her deer eyes. Just as suddenly, Susie runs into the living room.

-Daddy! Daddy!" with a sweet babbling, the girl ran up to her father, smiling broadly.

-Yes, baby? - The man, reacting instantly, picked up the girl in his arms and put her in his lap.

-I love you, Daddy!"-Jack chuckled and began to tickle the little girl. - I love you, too, baby.

- Susie, stop hugging Daddy and come over here and help me bake cookies. - A mother's affectionate voice came from the kitchen.

-Now, I'm coming! - The little girl jumped off her lap and happily jumped into the kitchen.

And only a little girl standing in the distance could barely hold back tears, watching this scene. While the poor child's mind, unable to understand, "What am I doing wrong?" Unable to withstand the pressure, the girl jumped out of the house, running away wherever she could see. Where there is no mother, no father, no "Swan".

When she stopped, the little girl was very frightened. All around was a wasteland. A misty, lonely wasteland, and shadows wandered beside her. Someone was grabbing the little girl by the hair, someone was pulling her arms, and someone was screaming. Frightened, the little girl squatted, whimpering softly, covering her head with her hands. Suddenly someone's hand caressed the shaking girl's head, and then all the sounds disappeared. When Crow opened her eyes, she saw only her home.

[detective4blog]

I wrote more of those sweet yet sad bastards <33 emphasis on the sad part <33

Uh tw for slight self hatred!

Sebastian stared at the ceiling fan spin around, getting lost in thought. A dangerous thing to do when your mind is as messy as his, but he couldn't help it. He was bored and there was nothing better to do than dive into the deep end.

What was John doing right now?

Sebastian blinked at the question. The hypnotic sync his eyes had with the fan broke, making it's rotation look wrong. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from it, feeling a bit dizzy now.

Maybe drinking tea or eating lunch. Maybe he went out for lunch too, enjoyed the nice weather. Probably wearing a nice jumper too.

He sighed, dropping his hand onto his face. The one time he would've welcomed harsher thoughts of people in the past, it had to go to John Hamish Watson.

Hopefully his bed isn't cold. Maybe he met a nice girl or fella. Maybe he's just got better heating. Either way, I hope he's warm.

He groaned now, rolling onto his side to stare out the window. It wasn't a nice view of the street at all, but it was still enjoyable. He could see birds flying from above rooftops, he could see smoke rising from chimneys.

Funny. Wishing someone is warm when I've pointed a gun at him.

Sebastian blinked then closed his eyes, huffing quietly. "It was one time. He doesn't even know." He muttered to himself, rubbing his temple. "He won't know."

Everything was quiet for a moment. He thought about taking a nap, despite the midday sun glowing in his room.

I could contact him. His email is on that stupid website. We could try again.

The blonde sat up, glancing at his phone on the nightstand. It'd be so easy to do, but he stopped himself. Getting involved with someone who was unfortunately very tied up into work was a horrid idea.

It could be for just one night. Feel good, mimic the good ol' days, sleep comfortably. I always slept better in his arms...

"God damnit," he muttered, getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom. A shower sounded nice. Maybe that stupid massage setting could steer his thoughts away from...whatever this was.

I wonder if he ever thinks of me when he-

Sebastian turned the water on blasting cold to nip that thought in the bud, biting his tongue to hold back a shriek. Too lazy to change the temperature, he dealt with the cold. Wasn't the worst shower conditions after all.

I miss him.

He started rubbing shampoo in his hair. Fruit scented; how fitting. Sebastian snorted at the irony of it. Maybe he should get a haircut soon, his hair was getting long...or grow it out again.

I miss how nice he made life seem.

He ducked his head under the water, closing his eyes. He'd gotten used to the cold water running over his body, making sure all the soap was rinsed from his hair and face before opening his eyes again.

I want to be ordinary.

"What am I, the living embodiment of that fuckin' song?" He muttered out loud, laughing at himself. "Forget that, I'm too far gone for a 'perfect soul'."

He shut the water off, snatching his towel from the rack. Army green; Jim must've thought he was being real cute with that. Regardless, he still used it to start drying off. At least it wasn't a rough towel, it didn't make his chest scars flare up.

I wanted to be with him.

Sebastian wrapped the towel around his waist, kicking his old clothes into the growing pile. He knew he had some clean comfortable clothes somewhere in his closet.

We were going to get a place together. We'd wake up and eat breakfast together.

He snatched a discarded robe. He was just getting increasingly more upset about thinking of the "what ifs" from the past and just wanted some damn sleep.

I want to be ordinary with him. No one else. Just him. He makes it look so lovely.

Sebastian laid down in bed, setting an alarm for the evening so he could eat dinner. The thought of contacting John came back to mind, this time the impulsiveness winning.

"Hey, It's Moran. Found out you've got a blog, wanted to get in touch. Hope life's been treating you well. -Bastian."

He reread the email too many times before hitting send and flinging his phone away. There was enough damage done to the blasted thing, getting thrown onto either the floor or nightstand couldn't hurt.

He makes the mundane look like art. Reading the newspaper, eating breakfast, setting alarms. He's a masterpiece. And I'm...not.

What a lovely train of thought to start drifting asleep to. Not the worst, of course, but not any better. Sebastian wrapped the blankets tightly around himself, burying half his face into the plush pillow.

I'm the paper used to test colored. Dried paint peeling off, colors that didn't work out staying around. The smell of expired paint soaking through. Used over and over, yet never discarded. I still have use. I still have blank spaces that can test a color.

Poetic self hatred. That was new. A bit nicer than the aggressive repeated words that would only stop after a bottle or two. Still hurt like a knife to think, of course.

Sebastian shut his eyes tightly. Trying to think of anything; some show he had seen recently, his favorite song, the stars. But no, it always circled back to John.

He'd listen to me talk about the stars. Listen for hours, to the point we'd both be exhausted the next day. Poor bastard must've really liked me to lose sleep over listening about the story of Orion or the difference between the Big and Little Dipper.

That got a chuckle from Sebastian, shaking his head a little. He missed being the bright eyed idiot that would talk about the stars with whoever listened. He was still an idiot, but didn't have the bright eyes and talked about the stars with whoever was closest emotionally.

I want to tell him about Canes Venatici and explain the different types of moons to him. Super moons, blood moons, blue moons...

Sappy. At least he was still a sap. He was starting to drift asleep, hearing the notification sound from his discarded phone but too tired to check it out.

I want to know if his eyes still shine when he smiles. I want to know if he still hates the smell of cinnamon but loves the taste. I want to know if he still remembers what I told him about the galaxy. I want to know if he ever thinks of me when he smells cigarette smoke.

Another notification sounded as he finally fell asleep, comfortable in the blanket tomb he made for himself. He didn't dream of anything special. The stars, mostly. How they danced with each other, even when both were dead and still shining brightly. How it was just like the memories of him and John in the past. The younger versions of themselves were dead but still danced together.

...

"Sebastian! It's been a while! Life's been alright. Got a lot to tell you about, heh. We could meet up for lunch tomorrow. I live near a cafe. -J"

[xoteajays]

You are slow.

Dragons, knights, swords. Steeds (motorcycles), wealth and even the damsels in distress. Everything is fantasy here.

Maybe I should hit you with a rolled up newspaper. Not really a fan of the meme. But still. I'm tempted to hit you with a newspaper.

~

Genji: 6'2 (187 cm).

Yamato: 6'1 (185 cm).

I know they were gonna be the tallest characters. You can just see the size they are compared to everyone else in the whole franchise.

~

When it comes to Cobra.. Maybe after finally getting to know how the other SWORD leaders are, truly showing their true selves, that's when Cobra wanted to befriend everyone because he knew none of them - that he was noticed - where ever horrible person. Every SWORD gang is protective in their own way, protective towards people and places. That's how I see it.

Rude Boys, Nameless City, they just prefer to care for themselves but also each other. That's what they are used to since birth. They always look out for themselves first. But Cobra is definitely closest to them.

Exactly. He might have hated Mugen and Sannoh, might have had a begrudgingly deep respect for them in some ways too. But his hatred Kuryu outweighed his hatred toward Mugen and Sannoh.

~

Sometimes when people upload videos with subtitles like that, I have to say that might not be that knowledgeable with other languages? It seems that way to me. Because the subtitles never make sense to me at all. The whole situation would just curious me even more that way.

And how would Naomi finally get together with Yamato. They're both stupid towards their affections for each other. Someone help them. Y'know what.. Remember how Rocky saved Yamato during the fights against Mighty Warriors. You can't convince me that Rocky didn't just save him because he wanted, he saved Yamato because he found out Yamato and Naomi cared about each other. So this is Rocky's way of apologizing for ruining her diner when Rocky and Naomi first met. That might be my new headcanon now. Maybe.

Isn't that how is always is though? The one who flirts doesn't get any attention, and the one who isn't flirting gets the most attention. Since a lot of people enjoy the "play hard to get" flirting. Women assume he is playing hard to get, when he's just completely oblivious about this.

~

Actually.. I would have to say the same for everyone else who is a part of the franchise. Like Takanori and Cobra, Keiji and Rocky, and lots of other actors are completely different than their characters that it just doesn't seem like the same person. Which definitely means they have been doing their job well. But still. That's really just a mind fuck to me when actors are completely different from their characters though.

Yes! They're all so short. I don't know why I think that's funny though.

Really? That's funny. Well... Yes. The color coded aspect does help me figure out how they are with their affiliated gangs. But I genuinely just haven't figured out what names they're gonna be named. And, like it's been said by you, foreign names are slightly difficult since you are not used to that language. You'd also want a unique name that still makes sense to people of that culture too. So I'll have to this figure out soon.

That could work too. Like she starts with basics like designing any of the logos on clothes for premade clothes, basic sewing, until she may be confident enough to create her own clothes. Maybe clothing lines, but being a fashion designer could possibly be the future occupation. But! Even if she only knew basic sewing.. She is friends with everyone who always end up in fights, clothes can get torn, she's the one that a lot of people go to when they need their clothes repaired again. Same as Mitsuya. And with how often the Sannoh gang want patches sewn into their jackets, she's even the one to do that for them because they not know how to do something basic like that with their own clothing.

But yes. Recreating premade outfits before creating her own clothes. No this is most likely canon for Blue. Someone needs to make fashion happen, besides the White Rascals since no one's ever so fashionable like them. They are fashionable. No one can change my mind on that.

"Prepare for trouble, and make it double." I don't care for Pokémon at all. Nothing against people who enjoy. But that was definitely the first thought that came to mind when you said they're double trouble.

I'm curious how Hyuga would have turned out if he was still in Kuryu.. Do you think he'd become an assassin too? Or just extra violent, more violent than he is now? What do you think might have happen to him?

Unintentional details, but also intentional details at the same time. I'll have to search through archetypes again for my characters.. So there is that too. Don't know what archetypes I might have set up for them.

As a disabled person who doesn't have that specific disability, I have known what it's like to prove people wrong based on your conditions.. Being treated differently shouldn't mean people should be treated so differently. I might really give my main character my own disabilities. Only because I rarely ever see any representations for my disorders in media. So I might be completely biased about thing concept though.

How did she lose her leg? Unless that's a surprise.

I just realized Ryu and Ryuko have the same name.

~

That one is obvious. Because of the events that led up to his mother and sister dying, Rocky's definitely a man who would do everything in power to care after his woman.

I can not believe Keiji's a lot more vulgar than I thought he would be.. I am not complaining. But still. I actually wouldn't expect that behavior, at least behavior like that from him out of Exile. That's definitely proof that Rocky is secretly kinky. So it's where that headcanon came from. Well.. That. And because Rocky enjoy his eating lollipops too much so you know he knows what he's doing. I blame Keiji and Rocky for this.

Oh! Apparently. Apparently.. In the High&Low manga. Rocky actually cries when romance is involved in a situation, like he'll cry watching a romantic movie and he's also known to cry at weddings. So now I am really trying to imagine what may happen in Rocky's in a relationship with a woman who doesn't care about romance since we do not care about romance. You're watching a romantic movie together that he is been wanting to watch for a while, then thing you know you'll hear his sniffling before looking over at him trying to wipe his eyes at wedding scene in the movie. Or imagine going to a wedding with him crying. If that is true about Rocky.. I really can't stop laughing at the thought of Rocky being emotional over romance. But I also wouldn't surprised.

And apparently in the manga, Rocky and Koo are roommates who do live together. So if you're going to be in a relationship with either guy.. Make sure the other isn't home when you're being intimate, whether I imagine a casual or sexual intimacies happening. That would be really awkward if Koo heard Rocky have sex with his woman, or if Rocky did hear Koo have sex with his partner. That would be awkward for them.

And apparently in the manga. Rocky's a lightweight with alcohol, he's known to get tipsy quickly when he's drinking alcohol.

And apparently in the manga. I need to stop saying that. Rocky really has cuffed himself on a railing with his handcuffs before, which really, I don't know.. That seems so funny that Rocky cuffed himself before.

I could see Murayama being immature enough that, if his girlfriend is not paying any attention to him, he'd yank on her shirt until he gets all the attention he wants. Like what children do with their mothers.

Possibly. That's what I have been doing with characters. I'm trying to get feelings, vibes, whatever with characters just to figure then out.

Rocky is definitely a cuddler. Whether or not his woman - or partner - enjoys being a cuddler, Rocky definitely is when he's sleeping though. Especially the big spoon and little spoon cuddling, he's the big spoon. "Is also a cuddler, but he needs the pressure of another person on or near him to sleep well." I can also imagine that with Rocky too.

I wonder.. Who do you think helped Murayama get his license? Since I remember Cobra told him he'd have to study to get his license before he can drive a motorcycle.

~

I have question. You already know my color coded characters are in a real band, they're musicians. And you already know most of the Exile Tribe guys are in the High&Low franchise. Anyway. Since most of the music for these characters and gangs are music from the actual men (and women) in the series. Do you think it would be weird to use their music, the band of my characters, as music for their soundtracks?

Maybe I should've worded that differently..

~

Have you checked the links yet? I'm not rushing you. But definitely keep me up to date on which posts you've seen so far though.. Since I'm curious about your reaction to some of those posts when you see a lot the content. Because some posts are completely bizarre to me.

absolutely deserving of a newpaper head bonk. just whap. it’s all so obvious now. i was just too busy being like ‘~ooh, pretty dudes and fighting scenes and parkour yaaay~’

~

absolutely not surprised those two are the tallest. i was calling genji ‘japanese terminator’ because i kept forgetting his name when he first showed up and he just. wouldn’t stay down in fights and the way he moved sometimes was very robotic. which you can see sometimes in the jsb videos when he dances.

~

i just want all the gangs to hang out. just gimme the scene of ‘em all bro-ing out. maybe after rocky opens the new club heaven and he invites everyone to the grand opening. i love the scenes of all the different group’s characters interacting during the big fights, but i want it in a more casual setting. lemme see em hang out!!

cobra’s pre-alliance is like ‘respect everyone else’s terf and boundaries, but also if anyone needs any help, i am available 24/7’. like he probably had ideas for the alliance earlier, but didn’t have reason enough to propose it until hyuga and then kuryu showed up and they had to have all these big fights. then he went ‘hey. since we’re all fighting together. maybe we should officially be allies. hmm? 👀’

~

like thank you for translating this but also. maybe run it passed a fluent english speaker maybe? thank you but my brain hurts trying to read these disjointed sentences.

rocky just ‘i saved your bf. sorry about your diner, that’s my bad’. naomi doesn’t even get a chance to correct him that she’s not dating yamato. he just assumes they already are and is so surprised when he finds out much later that they aren’t.

ladies love a hot, quiet ‘bad’ boy. unfortunately hiroto doesn’t know how to pick up in hints. please be clearer. say it plainly. meanwhile masaki is drowning in rejections. poor guy.

~

i think i’ve gotten slightly better when i comes to picking japanese names. but it still takes me forever. i think i changed my first aib oc’s name like 3 times, like completely scrapped and then reworked. i do like picking through kanji though, i think it’s interesting how names can have completely different meanings depending on them. don’t get that with english names.

i love the idea of her seeing patches on for the sannoh guys or even making group jackets like how mitsuya did for the tokyo manji gang. shame that all of the gangs really only have an aesthetic, not actual team uniforms (well, except the mugen jackets and daruma kind-of).

the rascals dress to impress! gotta look good for the ladies!

hyuga and ryuko are so double trouble. i just know they both have this similar ‘wild’ look in their eyes when they get seriously into a fight. ie hyuga biting that dude or breaking that other dude’s arm, ryuko whipping out her knife to carve up a guy’s face or stab through his hand.

i think he definitely would have been more violent, more unhinged. he wouldn’t have a reason not to be since i think the daruma guys (and sword) reign him in a bit. he’d probably one of their more brutal assets, like genji but worse. like genji had skills, hyuga would be pure crazy brutalist force.

she’s a princess locked up by a dragon being saved by knights. im surprised that wasn’t already in h&l ahdjdkdl. kind of related, but i found that tvtropes has a page dedicated to high&low with their characters tropes! it’s not all the characters but a lot of them, mainly the leaders are the most detailed.

as always, i’m enabling and encouraging! since i’m not an amputee myself, i’ve been digging into researching it while developing hinami; but since it’s a disability you have, i’ll bet you can write it really well! and i think rarer conditions should be shown more.

it’s not really a surprise. i’m still thinking about it. so far i’m thinking it was a car accident while she was riding her bike as a kid - but car accidents have been done a lot in h&l already so i’m thinking of something else. as an aside, i imagine that she was a ballerina pre-‘losing her leg and being abandoned’, so she has very good bodily control and constitution for pushing herself.

ryuko (born ryuka) was actually named partly after her father, ryukai. weirdly though i can’t find ‘ryukai’ as an actual japanese male name, the closest is ryuki.

also all of the kuryu dudes have ryu or tatsu in their names, both meaning dragon! since hyuga doesn’t at all, i’m thinking maybe his oldest brother had either ryu or tatsu in their given name.

~

i think in addition to worrying over them because he cares about them and thus he takes care of them when they’re down; he might be a little scared that if they get too depressed that they might kill themselves like his mother and sister did, since it’s not necessarily uncommon with depression.

you can’t convince me rocky doesnt have at least a little but of an oral fixation. not only sexually, but the lollipops and probably the grills too in some way.

rocky’s a big sob over romance. teary at weddings and love seeing big displays of love and is soft hearted about romance movies. love him. he’s probably got a massive collection of romance movies and novels. on movie dates, he’s always picking a romance.

rocky snd koo living together is my favourite lil fact, whether it’s as ‘they’re common-law husbands’ or ‘they’re besties’. either way, as friendly roommates, if they see the other with a lady, they’ll just leave. not sticking around for it.

koo is the only serious adult here in the rascals. it’s so funny to imagine koo berating the rest of the team about not behaving maturely and then turning around to find rocky has accidentally handcuffed himself to the railing. you know koo’s carrying around handcuff keys for this exact situation because the last time it happened, it took them forever to pick the cuff’s lock.

gf is trying to have a conversation or read or are simply focusing on something and murayama’s just ‘🥺 pay attention to meee 🥺🥺’. pulls on their clothes, lightly tugs on their hair, lies all over them. he’s needy.

get these men some good weighted blankets so they can sleep when their partners aren’t around. otherwise you know they’re staying up through the night and busying themselves with random stuff to do because they can’t sleep.

i think furuyu is the only one who can drive. he drives the truck afterall. so he probably taught seki and murayama. and i’m surprised he survived it because i know both of them are stressful as hell to teach.

~

i don’t think it’d be weird at all! h&l already uses a lot of exile tribe music in it, so i think it would fit right in to use the fcs’ own music as their themes.

~

i’ve clicked through them all the other night! so they’re definitely all open to discussion!!