#i'll say it. they should have fucked here.

[ssentimentals]

hellloooo can u please do idol!coups x reader for sleep deprivation on cheol’s part with reader taking care of him xx

helloooo anonie, sure i can, thank you for requesting! 💜

prompt: sleep deprivation

you try not to hover. you try not to act like mother hen in fear of being annoying. you try but it's so god damn hard when seungcheol looks like a dead man standing. your boyfriend has always been a hard worker, that's one of the qualities you admire about him, but his work ethic is also your biggest worry. seungcheol is present but just barely - you are sure that he didn't hear majority of the things you said with his mind being very, very far from here, buried in new dance routines or lyrics that had to be finished. it's amazing to see how work energizes seungcheol and gives him purpose, but it's horrible to watch him crumble under pressure. slowly you reach out for his hand, giving it a light squeeze: 'cheollie, baby. you're with me?'

seungcheol blinks at your touch and it takes him few moments to sit up straighter on the seat and send you a fake smile. 'yeah, baby, sorry, i'm here. what did you say?'

god, you can't believe this man wanted to pick you up after your work. seungcheol can't be trusted with a car now, not when he can barely focus. 'i asked if yuo're sure that we should go out tonight. you look really tired, cheol.'

he stubbornly shakes his head. 'no-no, i'm good. i'm so caught up at work that we haven't seen each other much lately.'

you kind of want to strangle and kiss him at the same time. he is so good for trying to make time for you amidst his hectic workload but he is so bad for not taking care of himself properly - you sigh loudly. 'when did you sleep last time?' you ask straight to the point. thank god for traffic at this hour, so you can fully turn to your boyfriend without paying attention to the road. 'you look like a zombie, baby.' seungcheol purses his lips and you instantly understand what's the problem. 'cheollie... you can't fall asleep?'

seungcheol sags in the passenger seat, looking embarrassed and done with himself. 'yeah,' he admits quietly. 'i- it's so fucking stupid. i don't know, i'm trying everything but it's just not working.' he sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly. 'i don't think i actually slept properly in the last 4-5 days.'

this admission breaks your heart. seungcheol is running on fumes and yet despite it all, he still is here, with you, because he doesn't want you to feel neglected. without thinking you enter new address to the gps, knowing full well what can help him this time. 'instead of the restaurant, let's have a picnic,' you announce in an overly enthusiastic tone.

'at eight pm?' seungcheol asks, confused. 'i mean if that's what you want then i don't mind but-'

'that's exactly what i want.' you squeeze his hand, sending him a small smile. 'no worries, baby. we are very close.'

it doesn't happen often, but it did happen before. sleep deprivation is, unfortunately, a part of seungcheol's life as an idol and you learned hard way how to deal with it. familiar scenes of home or studio don't calm him mind down, but fresh air and water always help. you park the close as close you can to the river and roll down all windows, letting cool evening breeze in. 'alrighty,' you turn to him with a gentle smile and snatch small blanket from the backseat. 'you take this and get comfortable. i'll order us some food.'

seungcheol grabs the blanket, frowning. 'what is happening?'

'we are having a picnic in the car,' you explain, opening food delivery app. 'and you are sleeping until the food arrives, getting much needed rest.' seungcheol opens his mouth to protest and you cut him off: 'this is a date. this is our date that i want to have.'

the thing is, you don't really care about specifics of date as long as seungcheol is close. he doesn't look convinced at first, but when you start talking about your date with a quiet music on the background, he relaxes. it doesn't take him long to fall asleep - adjusted seat, warm blanket, fresh air and your hand in his do their magic. you watch quietly as his breathing slows; in sleep seungcheol doesn't look as tired. still holding his hand you adjust your own seat and lower the radio volume. seungcheol going out of his way to be with you makes you want to do the same; and if date is about you letting him finally sleep and guarding his sleep then you're not complaining, not at all.

a/n: writing this made me so soft :') pls give cheollie all the hugs and sleep he deserves!! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[rueclfer]

expecting you // shouto todoroki

a/n: based on a thought i had a couple weeks ago about shouto falling for one of touya's nurses <3 smau at the end bc i cannot resist hehe -> literally geeeekingggggg

shouto is quick to catch onto patterns as well as fall into them. it's one of those things that had been ingrained in him from a young age that he can't seem to shake off now as an adult.

"observe, figure them out, know their next move. c'mon shouto. get up."

he has the bus times memorized and recognizes the faces of the people waiting with him. he remembers and greets everyone working the midday shift at his favorite soba shop. he's apart of their routine as much as they are to him, so of course they'll already have his usual order ready as soon as he comes in. they always pack extra, but he knows better than to argue, so instead, he lets them send him off with a "see you next week" and a reminder to "make sure touya eats it all so he can get big and strong."

it's always a fifteen minute walk from the soba shop to the rehab facility, and he doesn't bother checking in at the front anymore. he nods a hello to the security guard and goes straight to touya's room.

this has been his weekly routine for the past five years.

shouto's eyes zero in on the glossy checkerboard pattern of the facility's floors.

white. blue. white. blue.

he knows it takes him about fifteen of each to get to touya's room at the end of the hall, but he counts in his head every time.

from outside of his door, he hears your exaggerated groan that if the door was open, he was sure it would've echoed down the hallway.

"no, you don't get it," you huff, "it's the favoritism. that's why sensei won't write me a recommendation letter."

"you're probably right. you are kinda annoying," touya responds.

it takes shouto a long time, a year at least, to hear anything but venom in his brother's voice. right now, he didn't have to see touya to know that he had a smirk on his face with that delivery.

you just had that effect on people.

as if on cue, your voice rang "shouto should be here by now," right as he clicks the door open.

"and there he is," you quip, "another minute and i would've called the cops."

"can't i ever be a little unpredictable?" shouto scoffs with a slight smile.

such a hypocrite.

he expected that eye roll. he knew you would shrug and cross your arms across your chest. it's comforting in a way, to know someone so intimately just from observation and fleeting conversations, because even though you're teasing him about his strict routine, you don't even realize how predictable you are.

while shouto sets the takeout on the counter to unpack its contents, you grab the arms of the chair and push yourself up onto your feet.

"alright, you guys have a good lunch. i'll stop by and say bye before i leave for the-"

touya groans and cuts you off, "you do this shit every week, stupid, sit down and eat with us."

"no, because if i sit here and eat with you guys, you're going to talk and talk and talk and not get any rest before group therapy."

touya deadpans.

"does it looks like i need a fucking nap before spending an hour listening to some losers vent about their lives?"

"yes?" you cock an eyebrow "aren't you pushing thirty? the elderly need their sleep don't they?"

"says the twenty something with no social life." touya bites back.

a dramatic gasp leaves your mouth.

"shou, listen to what your brother is saying to me." you jokingly whine.

"don't get me involved," he shoots you a playful side glance, "you're having lunch with us. for the sake of your social life."

"shut up." you mutter, the corners of your mouth quirking into a shy smile. he waits until you sit back down in your seat before holding out a bowl of soba for you to take.

"i have to argue with you about it, but when he offers, you don't say shit?" touya complains with a mouthful of soba.

"duh? why would i listen to your rude ass when shou's so sweet?"

shouto bites back a smile and takes a seat at the end of touya's bed, scooping a mouth full of noodles in his mouth, watching you do the same.

"y/n, did you even pack a lunch for yourself today?" shouto starts after finishing his bite, "or do you love having us beg for you to stay and eat?"

you're quiet for a moment, sucking in your cheek to suppress the sheepish grin and defeated chuckle that would eventually break through.

your eyes trail up from your bowl of soba to lock shouto's, hoping that the heat crawling up your neck hasn't blossomed across your cheeks.

he doesn't look away, but instead cocks an eyebrow with a sly smile. he already knows the answer.

-

shouto leaned against the doorframe waiting for you to complete the last of touya's update forms before clocking out for the day.

"someone's gonna take over for me and take you to therapy in a few, okay?" you say, scribbling in the last few notes.

"the cute one?" touya asks.

"mmmmm no, i don't think she's working today."

touya groans, "fuck my life."

"down bad." you announce, receiving an unsavory gesture from touya's prosthetic hand as you pretend to make a note of it on the clipboard.

you tuck the board under your arm, collecting the various papers and notebooks sprawled out on the counter before shoving them into your school bag.

"see you in a couple days. cross your fingers for this recommendation letter." you take one last scan around the room.

"offer still on the table if you want me to forge one for ya."

"how generous. i'll let you know when i get desperate." you laugh.

shouto holds the door open with his back, raising a hand to say his goodbyes.

"see you next week, touya. maybe this weekend with natsuo and the kids."

"see ya. walk y/n to their car alright? your daddy didn't raise an animal."

shouto rolls his eyes with a half-hearted chuckle, looking back one last time to nod a goodbye before the door closes behind you two.

"the cute one is in fact working today." you say with a proud smile once you've skipped further away from the room.

“oh?” shouto quickens his step to catch up beside you, “why lie then?”

“just setting him up to feel a lot of excitement later,” you shrug. “i think being a long-term patient and living the same days and routine over and over again can feel kinda gray and muddy, so it’s nice to be surprised every now and then don’t you think?”

rei’s face flashes in shouto’s mind for a moment and he thinks back on the first time he visited her in that old living facility. unlike her during that time, touya still has a gleam in his eyes- a faint spark despite all of these years.

“y/n.” shouto says after a moment of silence, pausing in the middle of the hallway.

“hm?”

you stop and turn back to see him bowed at a proper 90 degree angle with his hands flush against his sides.

your eyes widen, “shou? what are you-”

“thank you for taking care of my brother, thank you for being a friend to him...” he trails, “...and to me.”

shouto didn’t know when would be an appropriate time to straighten up. he stared down at the white and blue tiles at his feet as he silently prayed for the heat prickling the tip of his ears to dissipate before coming face to face with you again.

“you’re being silly,” you break the tension with a breathy chuckle.

shouto snaps back up, the apple of his cheeks flushed from the blood pooling to his face.

“i’m not. i need you to know that i’m grateful.”

“you don’t have to thank me, shou,” you continue your walk back to the nurse’s station with shouto following close behind “i hardly do anything- i’m not even a nurse, you know? not yet at least. i think it’s funny that i got hired on because of your stubborn ass brother, but even if i wasn’t tied to a payroll, i’d still be here. you guys are my friends too.”

you keep your pace quick- always one step in front of him with your head hung low. there wasn’t much you could do to mask your blush. your face was burning hot, and this hallway was only so long.

“well, if you’re not going to accept my thanks, then let me treat you to lunch.” he leans against the counter as you round the corner behind the desk.

“you treat me to lunch every week,” you laugh.

“it would just be you and me.”

your fingers pause over the keyboard as you’re typing in your employee code. you look up from the screen and meet his eyes with your smile faltered and mouth slightly gaped open. 

“just you and me?” you repeat.

he nonchalantly nodded his head as his hands were sweating through the front pockets of his pants. 

shouto had gone out one on one with classmates and friends before, and he was sure that an outing with you would be like any other dinner, but there was a twinge of anxiety sitting in his chest as he waited for your answer.

i think something’s wrong.

well thank god i’m surrounded by nurses…and you.

“i mean, if he wants, we can put in a day pass request for touya and invite the other siblings. i just thought…” shouto sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, not quite sure what it was that he thought. “...that we…i…”

a year ago when you were just a student looking for volunteer hours, touya gave you an in-depth run down of each family member “just for when you have the misfortune of meeting them. don’t fall in love, alright? mr. perfect has that effect on people.”

it wasn't until now, with shouto's flushed cheeks, chewed bottom lip, and avoidant eyes that you understood what his brother had meant.

you’ve never seen the todoroki’s golden child, as touya liked to describe him, stumble over his own words before. you watch him pause for a moment to search for the right words, panic settling in behind his gaze as his eyes flicker between his twitching fingers tapping against the counter and your own.

“you and me, then.” you confirm, breaking the silence as the corners of your mouth lift into a shy smile.

“yeah?” he says with a sigh of relief.

you reach over, pulling a pen out from its holder and lean over the computer. you click the pen and grab shouto’s hand before scribbling your number in the soft flesh of his palm.

xx - xxxx - xxxx -> y/n :P

“also, my classmate’s picking me up today for a study session, but to keep touya’s word, i’ll make you walk me to my car next week,” you wave shouto off with a wide grin as you begin to walk backwards towards the exit, “text me, okay?”

shouto glances down at the numbers adorning his palm, still feeling the point of the pen digging into his skin. he looks back up at you. his mouth is slightly gaped open, but nothing comes out. with the same palm, he holds it up, waving you goodbye until the automatic doors close behind you.

you turn around one last time to see shouto walking off in the opposite direction towards the other exit with his palm held out in front of him and his phone in the other, making sure to have your number saved before the ink smudges away.

“so predictable.”

-

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0 @kaldurahms-lover @commonmisery @moonstonejpg @twoplayergaymers @simp-plague @xvilluis @haruhi269 @starliightfiend

shouto tag: @bitchyfestivalbouquet

[captain-huggy-bear]

“I was really trying not to wake you” with kesselring if you feel like it!! 💛

He's just a big, giant clumsy giraffe. A handsome one though. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You're cosy, warm in the way you only get when you're wrapped up in blankets that have taken on your body heat overnight. Cheek pressed into your pillow, arms wrapped tight around it, in that stage of sleep where the smallest thing could wake you. On the edge between dreaming and awake.

It's the sound of crashing that first starts drawing you from your sleep, the sound of Michael tripping over a pair of shoes he'd left in the middle of the floor, body going flying and slamming into the corner of dresser. The pointed edge landing solidly in his thigh.

"Shit, fuck! Ow! Fuck," You become more lucid, eyes blinking open, bleary and tired, as you push yourself up on one arm. Michael's holding his leg where he ran into the corner of the dresser, tripping backwards over a pile of his clothes he'd dumped there last night saying he'd deal with it in the morning, arms pinwheeling before he manages to right himself. Heaving a big sigh and dragging a hand down his face. He has yet to notice that you are awake and staring at him in the dark, the alarm clock displays big red numbers declaring it to be 5am.

"Michael?" Your voice is sleepy, so tired and the guilt hits Michael instantly when he looks over to see you staring at him. You're holding yourself up by one arm, other hand rubbing at your eyes to wake yourself up further. He had planned to sneak out to morning skate without waking you, so you'd get to sleep a little longer, it being a Saturday.

"Shit."

"Mike, are you okay?" You're starting to get up, pushing yourself to a seated position and he knows that if he doesn't stop you you'll swing your legs around and get fully out of bed to check on him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good! Go back to sleep, honey" He's already advancing on you, nearly tripping over his shoes again. Hoping that by getting closer you'll stay in the bed, where you belong, because its 5am on a Saturday and you don't have work.

"Mikey?"

You watch him as he sits down on the edge of the bed next to you, large hands coming up to your shoulders to gently push you back down from your seated position.

"I..I was really trying not to wake you, sorry, baby, promise I'm good. Go back to sleep.” Michael pulls the covers back up over you, tucking you in as he tries to convince you to stay in bed, that it's not worth waking up with him before the sun has even risen.

"I can't if you're not here..." You hate falling asleep without Michael, roadies are particularly tough. You often struggle to fall asleep, tossing and turning and while you'll probably be fine right now, half-asleep as you are, you really don't want to go back to sleep without him.

"I've got morning skate, honey, I have to go...I'll be back in a few hours, promise." Michael's long fingers push your hair back behind your ear, stroking the hair by your temple slowly, gently. It's soothing enough that you can't help but close your eyes again, snuggling back into the pillows, the mattress, your bedding.

"You promise?" Your voice is already getting sleepy again and Michael can't help but smile at the way you snuggle back into your nest and he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers, the motion repetitive and soothing.

"Promise, sweetheart. Go to sleep."

He stays there longer than he really should. Stroking your hair, your cheek, until he hears your breath even out, until he knows you're asleep again. Then he creeps away, this time avoiding each and every obstacle that had caused him to wake you in the first place until he reaches the door to your bedroom.

He can't help but stop in the doorway, chin turned over his shoulder to watch you one last time before he leaves even when he knows he'll see you in a few short hours.

Even that feels too long sometimes.

[wizard-of-interesting-failure]

"It's true," said the mage, "if this wasn't a security exercise I'd be totally boned."

The assassin nods solemnly, the high wizard frowning at the display.

"Alright, you've made your point, now get this grisly spectacle out of here!"

"Relax, bossman, it's just a portal."

"I know; your morning beard is atrocious."

The mage's cheeks color as his head withdraws into thin air and vanishes. "A full report of the activity," the assassin says solemnly, offering a piece of rolled-up parchment. The high wizard nods and takes it; the assassin sketches a deep, solemn bow before turning and leaving, closing the door behind him.

The high wizard sighs.

"Great, yet another headache to add to the pile," he mutters, frown deepening as he reads the pseudo-scroll. "A single alarm ward? Really? Why did I even take this job? All the magic and wonder of trying to herd hundreds of hubristic halfwits capable of warping reality to their whim, but apparently unable to stop some guy with a pointy piece of metal jabbing them in their sleep? Ugh. I should have taken that court position. No dressing-down from a king's arrogant son could possibly be worse than-"

There is a knock at the door; he waves his hand irritably, the door halves parting to reveal an entire line of assassins standing solemnly in single file, each with a wizard's head in hand.

Some have two. One enterprising fellow is balancing a triangle of them, to much grumbling from his ostensible victims.

"Oh for fuck's sake, I'm just gonna shift the whole complex into the void. 'weh weh weh, we need to be able to access reality', shoulda thought of that before you decided to sleep behind a single alarm ward I guess!"

The assassin at the head of the line clears her throat. Solemnly.

"Yeah, yeah. Apologies, ma'am; not your fault, you're just doin' your job, and aren't we all except for that incompetent lout you're carrying there."

"Hey!" says the second of many heads; the head wizard ignores him.

"We do appreciate you all coming out," the head wizard says, raising his voice. "Your potion supplies should have arrived already, and you can feel free to take any one personal item from each of your 'kills' as a bonus."

The woman nods solemnly. A chorus of groans and protests echoes from the hall.

"Well maybe you'll do better next time!" he yells out through the doorframe, before turning to the woman again. "Might wanna be careful though; some of these idiots hoard cursed bullshit like it's going out of style."

"We do not require additional recompense," the woman says solemnly.

"Feh. Lettin' 'em off too easy. Ah well, I'll figure something else out. Plonk her down on the table and let's get this over with."

The assassin nods solemnly, and another day in the life of the high wizard begins.

"Magic users look down on us normal folk because they think their powers make them better than us, but they still eat and drink; and they always fall into a peaceful sleep, self-assured that no one can get past their defenses." The assassin spoke as he placed the mage's head on the table.

[peachylynnie]

house edge

word count: 3.5k (making up for my absence) synopsis: in which sylus finally talks to you, alone. contains: pt 3 of blackjack, pt 2 of ace, sylus x fem!reader (non mc), moderately obsessive sylus, LOT'S OF TENSION, the twins appear, alcohol consumption, cursing, weapons, violence (death, mentions of suicide), and references to gambling. a/n: house edge refers to the odds advantage in the house/dealer's favor. haha this totally isn't late haha. i'm back in school and wifi sucks so this took awhile. i still hope you enjoy. reblogs and comments are always appreciated. lmk if you want to be tagged for the rest of the series. tagged: @sprout341 @miffysoo previous chapter | lads masterlist | next chapter

before he can savor that addictive look on your face (he couldn't care less about the cards), sylus' phone rings.

"tch," he clicks his tongue, ready to decline whoever's interrupting his moment with you.

however, his brows furrow upon reading who's calling.

the twins.

sylus curses under his breath as he stands up. he can't reject their call. he's made it clear to them that they should call only when it's important.

"i'll get back to you on my wager soon, gentlemen," he says as he strides towards the door, ignoring sherman and his lackey's frantic attempts at a compromise. "sweetie," he nods at you, brings the phone to his ear, and steps out of the lounge.

as sherman and his lackey lunge for sylus' cards to search for signs of foul play, you frown at the door he just closed.

this guy. he's no ordinary guy. of course, you knew that when your handler stationed you here. he's the head of onychinus for fuck's sake, the infamous person who runs the infamous faction that runs the infamous n109 zone. but seriously? anyone in their right mind would stay after seeing the hands on the table, especially after a whole night of losing. your handler emphasized that despite how much the rumors about him vary, they all point to him being a cunning man, capable of bringing a rival faction to their knees in less than a day. 

it’s not like he’s a gambling addict either. you’ve seen your fair share of them, and they all have this crazed look in their eyes. but no, this fucker gave you the most smug look before tapping the table. it's almost as if he knew he was going to win.

"hey, we need you at the bar," your one-day manager calls for you. "lounge's closing in five minutes."

"yeah," you exhale a deep breath. you need to calm down. it’s bad enough you lost your composure (in front of the head of onychinus of all people). for now you’ll focus on what’s important: no longer the commission but getting out of here. as soon as the last cup is put away, you’ll ring for transportation and book it. 

"goodnight gentlemen," you step away from the table. sherman and his lackey stand up in pursuit. "i would advise against any attempts at violence," you say as politely as you can. "this is a lounge, after all. one that is closing too. have some tact, will you?"

and with that, you walk towards the bar, paying no mind to their insulted faces. if they still decide to follow you, you'll use your evol to the max. you can’t afford to care about anyone who’s within fifty meters anymore. every additional second spent here is jeopardizing your chances of escaping sylus qin. did you see that nod? he's nowhere near done with you.

luckily, you don't hear footsteps chasing you. once you reach the bar, you quickly scan the lounge before collecting the empty glasses. 

all seemed well for a moment. there were little signs of your one-day manager assigning you more tasks. there were many signs of sherman and his lackey waltzing out. most importantly, there was every sign of you finishing your task, meaning you could soon leave without running into a certain silver-haired man.

however, there were no signs of sherman's gun on the table.

♢♢♢♢♢

it's raining by the time sylus leans back against an alleyway, a hand in his pocket and a foot against the wall.

"speak."

"hey boss!" luke and kieran greet simultaneously through the phone.

"you'll never guess what we found out," the older chirps.

"idiot, he's the one who sent us here," the younger reminds.

"what did you just call me?!"

"cut to the chase," sylus snaps. "i'm in a hurry right now." he is very much in a hurry right now, damn it. every additional second spent here is jeopardizing his chances of seizing you, having you. he needs to get back to the lounge as soon as possible. he needs to see you, talk to you, squeeze out of you that enticing look you had on your face less than five minutes ago.

"woah there, boss. is everything okay? you sound tense," luke asks.

sylus sighs, pinching his nose bridge. "yes, everything is fine, luke. thanks for asking." he glances at the rain-covered window across from him to see if you're still at the table. he frowns when he doesn't see you. "did you confirm what i asked you to?"

"yes," kieran answers, earning a grumble from his twin about his stolen thunder. "there are no authentic protocores here at sherman's warehouse. actually, there are no protocores here at all."

"seems like he was trying to strike us a deal with nothing," luke pipes in.

"how disappointing," sylus chuckles drily. "not surprising, though."

"should we go after him, boss?" the twins excitedly suggest at the same time.

"no need," sylus peels himself off the wall and moves over to the window for a better view. "i'll take care of him myself," he assures as he wipes the glass. he's delighted to find you at the bar drying a glass while sherman and his lackey make their way towards the exit, which leads right into the alleyway he's in. "in fact, i'll take care of him right now."

and with that, he hangs up the call. right on cue, sherman and his lackey step out of the lounge, their faces twisted with frustration from all the losses they experienced tonight. however, their faces immediately morph into fear upon seeing the head of onychinus.

"gentlemen," sylus smirks as he pockets his phone. "i just heard something very interesting."

in a blink of an eye, bloody, inky wisps wrap around the two men's necks and slam them into the wall. the very wall the feared man was leaning on moments ago. how unfortunate.

"w-wait," sherman chokes out. "let's t-talk about t-this."

"what could there possibly be to talk about, sherman?" sylus mocks with crossed arms. "surely not the fact that you tried to deal me not even fake protocores but none at all?"

one would find it difficult to determine if the two men were going pale from the lack of air or the abundance of fear. perhaps both. how unfortunate.

"no matter," sylus shakes his head. "let's talk about my wager instead, shall we?"

the air shifts as his evol tightens around sherman and his lackey's necks. the crimson and ivory tendrils rampage faster and faster, signaling for a brutal execution to come, a signature move every bastard in the n109 zone is aware of. however, the dreaded crushing and disintegration of flesh never comes. seizing this chance, sherman desperately searches for something in his pocket. 

“looking for this?” 

his eyes widen upon seeing his gun in sylus’ hand. 

nobody, not a single one of you, noticed him swipe the gun before leaving. 

“now, about my wager,” sylus cocks the gun. “how about your lives?” he aims at the drenched forehead of its owner. “surely it’s the least both of you can do after trying to trick me.” he places a finger on the trigger. “again.”

before sherman can open his pathetic mouth, sylus pulls the trigger, a glorious bang ringing through the rainy night sky. he doesn’t give the lackey a chance to mourn. instead, he gives him the same fate as his employer: a bullet lodged deep into his skull. not a single one of them was worth his evol. 

wiping the blood off his cheek, sylus tuts. “felled by your own gun.” he releases his evol. “how unfortunate.” 

after chucking the gun on the floor, he approaches the entrance of the lounge. he doesn’t have time to clean up the corpses. he’ll just escort you out another way (yes, this man plans to accompany you wherever you go after tonight). unable to hide his frenzied smile, he grips the door handle and steps in. 

♢♢♢♢♢

the brief pitter-patter of rain let in by the door should’ve been your first sign to hightail it out of here. the silver-haired man who’s currently seated at the bar with an elbow planted should’ve been your second. the red hungry eyes trailing over your figure most definitely should’ve been your third. 

but you’re too busy drying the glasses with your back turned. big mistake. 

“a glass of gin fizz, please.”

you still.

“make that two, actually,” he adds. 

you don’t turn around. you don’t dare to. instead, you slowly grab the last glass, prepared to put it away. 

“i’m afraid the lounge is closed, mr. sylus,” you counter gracefully. 

the man chuckles, leaning back in the stool. “surely this lounge can make an exception for the head of onychinus.”

“of course!” your manager dashes out of the employees' room, eager to earn the lounge additional funds. “what are you doing?!” she scolds you with what she thinks is your name. you’re thankful you have an alias tonight because the idea of sylus knowing your identity turns your stomach, which you’re sure is what he’s trying to do by ordering two glasses past closing time. “pour him a glass of gin fizz!” she instructs and dashes back into the employees’ room. you resist the urge to curse when you hear the employees’ entrance lock, meaning she clocked out for the night, meaning it was just you and sylus. couldn’t she have just made the drinks herself if she wanted the additional funds that badly?

exhaling deeply, you use the glass in your hand to scoop up some ice. no point in resisting. last thing you want is for your handler to nag you for not cooperating with the client’s staff, especially when you already gave up on the commission. might as well just get this over with.

“i wouldn’t scoop the ice first if i were you, sweetie,” sylus snaps you out of your thoughts. “it’ll dilute the alcohol.”

you don’t say anything. you just grab a bottle of gin and pour it into a jigger. your customer scoffs. 

“are you ignoring me, sweetie?”

you pour the gin into a shaker and squeeze some lemon juice. 

“if you’re upset about something, then you should tell me.”

you take out the simple syrup from the fridge and pour it into the jigger.

“how about this?” he starts. 

you add the syrup to the shaker along with three ice cubes. 

“i ask you a question, and you ask me a question.” 

you equip the shaker with its strainer and start shaking it violently. 

“aren’t you curious as to how i won?” 

you freeze. only now do you feel the chill of the liquor from the shaker. 

“go ahead, sweetie,” sylus coaxes, thrilled to finally have your attention. “ask. i know you want to. your face back there said it all.”

placing the shaker down, you open its lid, pour its contents into the ice-filled glass, add a generous amount of soda water, turn around, and slam the glass in front of sylus. 

that’ll shut him up for a minute or two. 

but it takes everything in you not to gasp when you look up from the glass. 

since when was it raining outside? he’s seated with his shiny, silvery hair messily slicked back, beads of water slowly dripping down his face and neck, his drenched button-up suit clinging onto his chest and forearms for dear life, and his ruby-streaked blazer not only hanging from his broad shoulders but also adding to the puddles forming beneath the stool.

you make a mental note to inform your handler that the head of onychinus is NOT some old, short man with a face only a mother could love, like some of the rumors say. 

enjoying your gaze on him, sylus tilts his head teasingly. “well?”

you can’t back down. it sounds like he won’t either until you talk to him. pinning your hands on the counter, you lean in. “why did you hit? you knew your chances were low, even after looking at my cards.” 

he doesn’t answer immediately. it’s your turn to expect something from him, want something from him. it’s the least you could do after driving him in circles the whole night. besides, he wants a closer look at your face; commit it to memory in case you even think about leaving without compensating him for the absolute torture you put him through. 

after taking a slow sip from the glass, sylus asks, “ever heard of gambling addicts, sweetie?”

you squint at him. “yes, but you aren’t one.” 

“oh,” he quirks a brow. “so you know of me?” 

“everyone in the n109 zone knows who you are, mr. sylus.”

“yes, but you aren’t from the n109 zone, miss dealer.” 

you tense. although the shift in your shoulders was incredibly tiny, it was taken hostage by his eyes. he’s impressed by how controlled your reactions are. 

but now it's his turn to ask.

standing up from his stool, sylus leans in dangerously close and whispers, “what brings you to the n109 zone, sweetie?”

you don’t answer. but you don’t back away either. sylus likes that. he likes what’s happening right now. when was the last time he felt this ecstatic from a conversation? even though your answers were cryptic, he was able to conclude that you come from a place or are in a position where his existence is made aware, and probably in certain detail too, given your insistence on him not being a gambling addict. when was the last time he had a gin fizz that tasted this good? he’s delighted the serving he had at the previous table was also made by you (how does this psycho know that). and most importantly, when was the last time he felt threatened? something is unsettling about the way you won every single game tonight, with a look of indifference too. 

by chance, are you an evolver?

“i assure you, i am from here, mr. sylus,” you answer with a small smile. it doesn't reach your eyes. removing your hands from the counter (he frowns when you do), you turn around to make another glass. hopefully his previous request for two will serve as a distraction. “you’re welcome to look into my name, but i’m sure the head of onychinus has better things to do than to worry about some dealer.” 

sylus laughs. he actually laughs. although it isn’t loud, the intervals as to which his rich voice seeps through are enough to convey that your lie hasn’t convinced him. “sweetie,” he shakes his head endearingly and sits down. “because i am the head of onychinus, everything and everyone in the n109 zone is subjected to my worrying, including intruders who use fake names.” 

you spin back around, your eyes full of alarm. how does he know about your alias? no, how does he even know you’re not from here? from the beginning, that’s what he’s been insisting on. there’s no way someone as busy as him could know about every single person residing in the n109 zone. at least, that’s what your handler said (oh how wrong she was). 

“do you truly expect me to believe that is your name?” sylus repeats your alias with scorn. it’s an injustice to your frame. “it doesn’t suit you. you need to pick better names, sweetie.

what the fuck. he’s convinced you’re an intruder because your alias doesn’t suit you?! this guy. this guy’s not sane. that’s it. now you really need to get out of here. glaring at him, you snatch his glass and dump its contents down the drain. damn it, you wasted too much time. he got you. he got you good. he never intended to uphold his “a question for a question” deal in the first place, given his bullshit answer about gambling addicts. 

“i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie through gritted teeth. “now excuse me, mr. sylus. the lounge was supposed to close fifteen minutes ago.” 

sylus licks his lips. he can almost taste the frustration in your face and voice. it’s intoxicating. that’s the second time he’s forced a reaction out of you. how much more until you beg him to stop? 

“of course, miss dealer,” he concedes mockingly. "allow me to escort you out.”

“that won’t be necessary,” you hiss. “my car is right around the alleyway.” 

“still,” he blocks you from exiting the bar. “it’s dark and raining outside. it’s the least i could do to pay for the drink.” 

“money will do,” you frown. 

“i’m afraid i’m all out, sweetie,” he smiles. “you did quite the number on me, after all.” 

you scoff. not only is his smile shameless, but so is his lie. you may not be from here, but you know damn well it’s going to take an eternity of games to even leave a dent in the head of onychinus’ bank account. you glance at the clock. you should have called for transportation by now. technically, you still can, but you need to be outside. and it doesn’t look like he’ll let you go anytime soon unless you accept his offer. 

“you can walk me to the alleyway,” you sigh. 

“not to your car?”

you scowl at him. don’t push it. 

sylus chuckles and steps aside. when you exit the bar with a huff, he can’t help but think you look like a cat, a cute little one who scratches when agitated. perhaps kitten will be what he calls you next. 

after turning off the lights, you step out of the lounge. only to freeze in your tracks.

corpses.

corpses of the two people involved in your commission. narrowing your eyes, you notice a bullet wound in each of their foreheads. you scan the ground, searching for any traces of the murderer. however, your blood runs cold when something catches your eye. sherman’s gun. you crouch to pick it up. did he kill himself? no, that doesn’t explain why his lackey has the same wound. 

“ah,” sylus interrupts your thoughts. “i forgot to escort you out the other way. my apologies, kitten.”

he knows violence doesn’t faze you as it normally would for any other outsider. still, he didn’t want you to see this kind of violence since there’s a substantial difference between witnessing an arm get crushed and witnessing the glassy eyes of lifeless bodies. 

though, he supposes he worried for nothing since you’re being eerily quiet with your eyes fixated on the gun. 

skillfully, you unload the gun. no bullets left. you exhale deeply. from the looks of it, sylus killed them since he knew the bodies would be here. furthermore, he used sherman’s gun, which initially only had two bullets, given the lack of bullet marks in the alleyway. you just happened to miss the sound of gunfire since you were too occupied. but if that’s the case, that means sherman and his lackey died quite the unfortunate death where the former’s gun was their undoing and no one could’ve heard them, which means… your evol. it did its job. too good of a job. 

“at least the commission is complete,” you murmur. 

sylus furrows his brow. “you, what did you just say?”

for a moment, all that is heard is the downpour of rain and the distant rumbling of thunder. 

you pull out your phone and press a contact. “delilah, open it now.” 

“what?”

you sprint down the alleyway, not bothering to acknowledge his confusion. 

sylus immediately chases after you, his legs moving like never before. shit, you completely took him by surprise. what was that phone call? no, what did you mean by a completed commission? and why do you know how to unload a gun? clenching his jaw, he prepares to teleport to the end of the alleyway, determined to intercept you. he’ll be damned if he lets you escape. 

although he blinks to the end of the alleyway, you make a sharp turn, evading his outstretched arm. 

“tch,” sylus clicks his tongue before continuing his pursuit. however, you make another turn around the corner, giving you three seconds out of his sight. 

by the time sylus turns around the corner, you’re gone. not a single trace of you left behind. but what infuriates him more is that this is a dead end. not a single way out but the way he got here. he slams a fist in the wall, ignoring the blood that seeps down and the deep cracks in the bricks. using his free hand, sylus pulls out his phone and dials his most recent contact. 

“luke. kieran. get me access to the cameras surrounding this lounge,” he spits the lounge’s name. “now.” 

♢♢♢♢♢

you breathe rapidly as you fall onto the floor, your throat burning and your ears ringing. you’ve never run so fast in your life. 

“welcome back,” a smooth voice says your name. your actual name. 

you look up to face your means of transportation, delilah. 

“what the— did it rain over there?” an acute voice asks. 

stella, your handler enters your vision. 

both of them reach out a hand for you to take. 

you begrudgingly accept and swiftly walk towards the door, eager to give yourself a fucking break after all that happened today. 

“what’s the rush?” delilah asks with a yawn. “don’t tell me you failed the commission—"

"how was your first time in the n109 zone?” stella interjects, warning delilah with her eyes. 

you pause before turning the knob. 

“never send me there again.”

[anamericangirl]

It happened again! Nother convo between me and a lib friend.

Me: I thought you didn't support the death penalty?

Friend: I don't! And I never well. Those are human beings in a correctional facility. The purpose of them being there is to help them transition back into society as a normal human being.

Me: As someone who studies criminal psychology I regret to inform you that the criminally insane do not magically become normal people while in prison.

Friend: That doesn't mean we shouldn't try. [This is my favorite quote in here because this friend says religion should be outlawed because if we can't see God he doesn't exist. So his logic of "Just because we've never seen it doesn't mean we shouldn't try" goes out the window when it's religion, but he's all for it when it's gender ideology, criminal correctional facilities or communism being a good form of government.]

Me: So can I ask you about all the memes you've been posting? [Context: He's been posting memes non stop about how that healthcare guy got shot and saying it's hilarious]

Friend: Dude there's a huge difference between someone who made a mistake and someone who deliberately fucked over millions of people with health care scams

Me: I really implore you to watch criminal psychology videos with me sometime. These are not people who made a mistake, these are people who take pleasure in murdering as many people as they can.

Friend: They can still be helped. CEOs can't be helped, they're too far gone.

Me: I literally just watched one about a woman who killed her pregnant daughter and then cut her open and ate the baby inside of her, and you think she can be helped but CEOs can't be?

Friend: Yes I do, she's still a human being.

Me: She's not, she's dead. She got the death penalty for that. It was in Texas.

Friend: And what problem did that solve?

Me: Well there's not a woman who killed her daughter and ate her unborn granddaughter in the world anymore, so she can't go on to do that again.

Friend: Yeah but that's one person. This CEO killed millions of people.

Me: It's two people, and I dunno about you but I really feel like when you literally murder someone you don't deserve the life you've been given anymore, no matter how many people you murder. If we're gonna weigh the severity of murder on a bell curve that's fucking retarded. We don't go "Yeah he killed 10 people but he doesn't lose his humanity card until he kills a lot closer to 6 million people." I feel like in both cases we should probably get rid of the murderer.

Friend: Well, you got your wish apparently since both are dead so what the hell are you complaining about?

Me: I'm not complaining, I'm trying to understand your logic. You're completely okay with someone getting shot to death because you claim they've killed millions of people, but then when someone kills 1-10 people and is in prison you fight for their human rights. I'm personally glad that in both cases they can't keep hurting people because I'm of the opinion that the death penalty for heinous criminals who are a danger to society is a good thing. My confusion starts with you being okay with one but not okay with the other. You're entirely inconsistent on who you're okay with being killed.

Friend: I'm completely consistent with who I'm okay with being killed. If they're nazis, billionaires, CEOs, maga, racist or antivaxxers they can get killed and I'll be happy.

Me: What's the bar for CEO? Because a small business owner is still a CEO. And when you say racist, do you mean specifically white racists who are racist against non-white or are you at least being consistent there and also hoping black and latino people who hate white people die too?

Friend: It's not racist to hate white people.

Me: Got it. And the CEO question?

Friend: CEO and billionaire are the same thing.

Me: They absolutely are not. The term "CEO" literally means "Whoever is in charge of a business or corporation." That means that a family owned business does in fact have a CEO, even if that business is only worth like $10,000.

Friend: That's not the definition of CEO, CEOs are billionaires in charge of companies like EA and Ubisoft. A small business owner is a small business owner.

Me: The guy who makes tiki torches is a small business owner, you want him killed?

Friend: He's a nazi.

Me: He's a nazi because the KKK bought his product?

Friend: Yep!

Me: It is shocking how easy it is for you to wish death upon someone. So you think the tiki torch guy should be shot?

Friend: Absolutely, yes.

Me: Let's change the subject, this is getting stupid. You still ride horses?

Friend: Yeah

Me: Fucking nazi.

Friend: [He sent a groggy anime girl emote]

Me: What? The KKK owns horses, haven't you seen Django Unchained?

Friend: I'm going to bed.

Me: By the way the tiki torch CEO is a left-winger who went on CNN to say he was appalled by the protesters using his torches.

Friend: Don't care.

Me: Still shoot him?

Friend: Yes. Good night.

Me: Aight.

I'm still reeling from "murderers can be helped but CEO's can't be because they're too far gone."

lol.

lmao even.

There's nothing wrong with being a CEO. It's not a crime. So wtf is he talking about they're too far gone and can't be helped? Like the problem with the United Healthcare CEO was that he was supposedly a murderer but I thought murderers could be helped???

Being in charge of a business isn't a bad thing omg. Sounds like your liberal friend, like most liberals, is just jealous some people make more money than he does.

Consistency would kill these people.

[inkshadow]

"i'll keep that in mind the next time i'm ever in a situation where i need to suggest one." he'll have to really assess if it's worthwhile though, since icebreakers are typically for strangers and if the vibes in the room aren't right then it might freak people out more than comfort them. "oh so the only way i'm going to prove my point that the two words are different are if i watch you and some guy going at it? look, i said i would! i'll just have to accept the fact that i'm probably going to lose any semblance of a boner when the moment hits." which, again, should be fine considering his relationship with este ( though, admittedly, watching her in that light would absolutely change the relationship right then and there ). eventually, jesper pulls into the entrance of a lookout point, one that typically gets quite a good number of visitors during the day. thankfully, they're the only two in sight at the moment and he parks the car to let her decide if she wants to take the walk over or not. "if what you say is true then i don't know that anyone really expected me to do anything with you, let alone talk. i'm glad that you got to feel normal for a little bit though. there's nothing worse than feeling like you don't belong in your own home." now that he's not driving, he can finally turn his head to look at her properly, lips pursed in confusion. "what? you're telling me because i'm dating your sister, we can't be good friends? the fuck am i doing here then, buying you snacks and taking you to nice places overlooking the city? pft, get the fuck outta here with that 'we can't be friends' bullshit...."

“that’s a very intimate approach, so maybe i shouldn’t be that surprised. who knew you could learn so much about a person based on the method of murder they choose? i think more people should try using it as an ice breaker.” it really helps to set a tone right from the jump, though she would suggest asking before getting into a car with the other person. just in case. “uh, no, don’t you dare. if i gave you a video of me naked, i would expect you to watch every minute, thank you very much. none of this cowardly closing out early bullshit. you commit or you don’t get.” much like doing the act itself, este is of the belief that he should feel grateful he’s even getting a glimpse, hypothetical or not. it’s like he wants her to change her mind and find someone else who will appreciate it more. “yeah? finally, the compliments i was looking for,” she gives him a smile, though it wanes soon after. “i don’t know... you sort of just answered the question yourself. i’m not used to someone paying attention to me, at least not at home, so even if you were just doing what was expected of you, i still appreciated it. it made me feel normal for a change and after the way dinner went, i wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to feel that again… besides, it's probably better to get out for a while than overthink alone in my room. if it weren't for the whole ‘sister’s boyfriend’ thing, we might actually make pretty good friends.”

[altaiiriss]

The plan was simple.

Go to this world.

Check in on the Agency.

Make sure that everything went according to his counterpart's plan.

Leave.

The most important part: do not cross paths with Chuuya.

But when he spots ginger hair and a tacky hat from afar, it's only a matter of seconds before he's pinned to the ground, a familiar knife pointed at his throat.

"What kind of disgusting ability is this?" the man above him barks, words filled with venom.

"This is not an ability." Dazai states, calmly.

"Don't you dare imply you're him," the knife brushes against his throat, a sharp vessel for the man's rage. "Boss died. Threw himself off the Port Mafia building."

Dazai swallows. This Chuuya looks different from the one he has known for seven years.

He's not as vibrant. He doesn't shine as much he does.

He looks like he almost gave up on living.

"Chuuya—"

"You have no right to say my name, you fucking imposter."

"Please, listen," he pleads. Damn, he doesn't like this Chuuya. "I am Dazai, just—not the one from this world. Not the one you knew."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Chuuya questions through gritted teeth.

"I came here from a different timeline," he explains, careful, "I do share some memories with this world's Dazai, though."

"If you truly are Dazai," the name burns like liquid fire on his tongue, "then you must be a pathological liar as well. Why should I believe you?"

Dazai smirks. This Chuuya is a ticking bomb and he's ready to light his fuse.

"The first time he made love to you," he chooses his words carefully—they had sex plenty of times, but making love was new to them—"he told you he lov—"

Chuuya's fist meets Dazai's cheek.

It's painful, but Dazai didn't expect anything less from him.

"How the fuck did you come to this place?"

"I take it that Chuuya believes me." he grins, satisfaction making its way across his face. "It doesn't really matter. Let's say my ability comes in handy sometimes."

His Chuuya would have laughed at him. Probably told him he's a pain in the ass.

This Chuuya stays quiet and just... walks away?

Dazai's brow furrows.

"Where are you going?" the brunet asks, still sitting on the ground.

"I got nothing to say to you. You can go back to your fucking timeline." he snarls, that gloomy look plastered on his face.

"My, my, holding me accountable for what my counterpart did?" Dazai singsongs in his usual cheerful tone.

The next second he's avoiding the knife thrown at his head.

"I'm giving you one last warning," he growls, and Dazai swears he sees a reddish hue where Chuuya's brown eye should be. "Go. The fuck. Away."

"I just want to talk. About everything."

"You said you're not him, hah? Then you're nothing more than a stranger to me."

"I can explain why—"

"I don't care!" the ground shakes, courtesy of Tainted, but doesn't move beneath Dazai's shoes. "If he truly cared he would have told me about his fucking death plan instead of hiding everything from me!"

A long silence follows.

"Five minutes," Dazai pleas, "and I'll explain everything. Then I'll go back to my world."

Ten minutes later they're in the Port Mafia building, more precisely in Chuuya's office, which previously belonged to Dazai.

The detective glances at the empty chair and he can see it—the ghost of his counterpart, legs crossed, and the redhead standing fiercely on his left, covering his blind side.

There's something terrifying about it. A bond that was way different from the one he shares with his Chuuya; an unmatched level of trust and intimacy.

Imagining himself as the Port Mafia boss is making him sick to his stomach.

"I don't have all day," Chuuya complains, arms crossed. "Go on. I'll listen."

Once Dazai is done talking, the tension in the room is palpable.

"Why," Chuuya mutters, gripping the red scarf hanging over his shoulders, "Why didn't he tell me? Why did he send me on that fucking mission in London? I could have saved him."

"That's the point." Dazai sighs. "Saving him wasn't part of the plan. It would have ruined it."

"So ruining my life was the safest option, hah?" he scoffs, bitterness seeping through his words.

"You would have done the same for him."

'Yes', Chuuya wants to scream. 'Yes, and the fact that he prevented me from doing it keeps me awake at night'.

"You know," the redhead begins, breaking the silence, "I sensed something was off. At some point I realised we weren't on the same wavelength anymore. He treated me like shit then almost worshipped me as if his life depended on it."

"I guess you have figured out why."

"Yeah," the realisation burns the back of his throat. "He tried to detach himself. To make it easier for both of us."

'But he couldn't' is left unsaid.

"I don't know what you do to us, Chuuya," he blurts out, his mouth talking on its own, "It's terrifying."

He finds it easier to be a little bit honest with a Chuuya he's never going to see again.

If it makes him a coward, he doesn't care.

The redhead remains quiet and Dazai spots a myriad of emotions in his eyes.

Hurt, anger, sadness, longing.

"Am I happy?" Chuuya suddenly asks, "In your world."

"Are you happy in this one?" Dazai asks back, unsure.

"You want me to say 'yes' so you can feel better about all the mess your counterpart left for me to deal with? 'Cause I won't."

"This is the only world in which Od—"

"I know." he stops him. He doesn't want to hear that name again. "I just wish he talked to me instead of making all decisions on his own as if I didn't matter a damn thing to him. I guess I was useful as his strongest weap–"

"Don't." Dazai interrupts him, his voice firm. "You've never been a weapon. Not to him. Not to us."

The silence that follows eats them both alive. Talking to this Chuuya is filling Dazai with uneasiness for some reason he doesn't understand.

Seeing him so empty, inevitably similar to himself, makes him uncomfortable.

Does his Chuuya feel the same? Is he hiding all that resentment as well?

"Well, this took more than five minutes. I'll leave as I promised." he announces, suddenly unable to stand in that room anymore.

"Wait." Chuuya calls, his voice unsure.

He walks to Dazai until they're facing each other.

"I have one request. Then I'll let you go."

Dazai knows where this is going. That's why he didn't want to meet this Chuuya in the first place.

"Can I..." the redhead hesitates, "Have one last kiss before you go?"

Dazai's heart aches for the first time in ages.

"I'm not him." he states, voice flat.

They stare at each other's eyes, lost in the moment, and Dazai barely registers the way Chuuya is delicately pushing him against the desk until he's sitting on the black surface.

Neither of them dare speak, for any word would ruin the sacred religiousness of the moment.

Chuuya slots himself between Dazai's legs, bringing their bodies impossibly closer, and his hands reach for his scarf.

He removes it, his movements painfully slow, and Dazai swallows as the red cloth is placed around his shoulders.

Dazai's throat wobbles.

Chuuya's vision blurs.

Dazai feels seen as the redhead's eyes wander all over his face, scanning every feature so that he can store it in his mind until the last memory of the two of them fades.

A gloved hand reaches for Dazai's bandaged neck, caressing the fluffy brown curls, and Dazai's arms instinctively circle Chuuya's waist.

Would his Chuuya be mad at him if he found out?

"A Port Mafia traitor from another world, wearing his precious scarf... He would be feral." Dazai mutters, the forced proximity making him dizzy.

"He owes me." is all the current boss of the Port Mafia says, his eyes fixated on the detective's chapped lips.

His right hand comes to rest on the left side of Dazai's face, covering his eye, and their lips finally connect.

The kiss is tender, almost heart-shattering—it's nothing like the ones he shares with his Chuuya, and it's surely way different than the ones this Chuuya used to share with his counterpart—and yet its bitterness is suffocating.

This life wasn't designed for them, Chuuya thinks, but for now he'll just pretend his former boss is right in front of him.

It can't hurt more than it already does anyway.

Dazai pulls away first, fully aware that the longer this lasts, the more it's going to hurt, and Chuuya heaves a shaky breath in return.

He tries to keep the ghost of his former Boss close to him, but all his efforts are pointless against death.

"I'm going now," Dazai announces, placing the red scarf back on Chuuya's shoulders.

'It doesn't suit you at all', he thinks.

The detective twirls a ginger curl around his finger before walking away. "Take care."

"You will come back, will you?" Chuuya asks, both hopeful and hopeless, and Dazai wonders if this is how his Chuuya felt when he left the Mafia after Odasaku died.

Dazai smiles, quietly. "No. I have no right to be here."

"Always leaving me behind, no matter which universe you fuckers come from." Chuuya mocks him, but he speaks in loneliness. "Go, before I kill you."

"You wouldn't, neither of you." he replies, smiling to himself. "He's doing fine, by the way. Has gone through a lot, but never once lost his colours."

'You're both too good for us and that's why you'll never fully stop hurting', he thinks.

They steal one last glance at each other before Dazai finally disappears behind the door.

"Goodbye, Chuuya."

[midnightwerewoolf]

That being said, spoilers for episode 8 of season 2:

And warnings: I'll be mentioning pedophilia and sexual assault here.

Shit is fucked man. We knew the former emperor was a pedophile due to Lishu the Virtuous Consort being mentioned as one of HIS former concubines who was lucky enough to never have been touched by him so knowing that the dowager empress, Anshi is as young as she is (between 44/45) and how old the current emperor is should give you an idea to how little she was when the former emperor assaulted her.

While I do know why he preferred young girls due to my decision to not avoid spoilers, it doesn't make it any less terrifying and wrong and I'm glad The Apothecary Diaries decided to say "Yes, this happened and it was messed up."

You can say whatever you want about values being different in the past, but we cannot excuse the actions done in the past and still condone them for what they were.

The fact that we even get that flashback of a small Jinshi seeing whom he thinks is his father and being protected by his "mother" should give you a hint as to what that geezer's real intentions were and why she looked at him with so much anger and hate.

I honestly can't wait to learn more about this in the anime, there's so much to enjoy here and it makes me happy to see the victims here not being treated wrong but rather being given empathy and understanding.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

I think the reason why "Fire Emblem" is the weird kid at the nintendo franchies table is because they don't really have a main charcter throughout their series.

Like, Legend of Zelda has Link, Mario Mario, Kirby Kirby, Pikmin the Pikmin/Olimar etc.

A few exptions that could be said is like, Xenoblade. But seeing as they have 3 games so they can just pick any MC they want for the time being to rep it.

Meanwhile the most noteable FE guy is Marth from number of apparances, but if you remove remakes that's like, two games. Even then, he was more in JP only games.

Other people who could have became the face of FE as the flagship mascot could have been

-Lyn: One of the most popular girls in FE. Was from the first US release of the game as a main lord. She most likely can't because she came at an akward time in gaming and would be seen as "wifu bait" to a lot of annoying people.

-Ike: One of the most popular lords in FE. a HUGE fan favorite and even cult following in Smash Bros (Like Smash HATES FE, but they chill with Ike. Because We Like ike). Most likly why he can't be the icon is Sales numbers. Love the Tellious saga but I'll be real, I did not contribute to the sales figure like most of you and played it years later. Also it's heavily implied through writing and breaking of story conventions that he's Gay/Ace/demi. And while Nintndo's super mario said "Gay people cool" it's a Multi billion dollar company so I don't think they'll want that.

-Chrom: For the 3DS people, Chrom is the most memeorible lord out of the bunch. Was the face of the game for a while, sorry lucina and robin fans, but chrom's popularity was bigger at the time of the game. Most likely why he can't be. well. it's Chrom and people's opions changed over time.

-Edelgard: Switch girlies, this one is for you. WE know you love badass women who break so many ethics we make conventions after it. There isn't really much reason to explain the why she can, but the reasons why she can't are kinda lame. Like Ike, she's outright shown being bisexual. And you can't really market that in some places. Plus, to say this the least. She is one of the most divisive FE characters because of how much Nuance is in 3 houses. Love or hate her, she brings out WAY to much from people to be a masctor charcter (Won't stop the FEH alts though). Plus, She's like tied to the other 2 lords that it's like the contract for Who Framed Rogger Rabbit saying "Bugs bunny and Mickey Mouse must be on screen for the same amount of time. Donald Duck and Daffy Duck (last names unrealated) must be on screen for the same amount of time."

-Ephram: he's here as the sacred stones rep. Reson why he can't. he's from sacred stones. that's a cult following in the FE community, sorry but he's not mascotting anything.

-Celica: With her apparance and precness in Engage, a good argument could be made for her. She's a really well written charcter but comes back to the issue of the amount of peopel who've played her game.

-Alfonse: GOTCHA GAME BABY ITS THE GOTCHA GAME GUY HE PROTAGNIST AND GAMBLGIN GOOD

-Veronica: The real rep from FEH. She is a very interesting character that takes up a lot of the story spot light with her growth into learning empathy and understanding. She isn't very static compared to Sherna (She did't even chage after learning she could have been an orphan swapped years ago into the role o a princess after a magical fairy land adventure. This HAPPENED IN BOOK 4. THE FUCK YOU MEAN SHE BARELY CHANGED.) and Alfonse (He changes but, not as much.). Plus she does have more unquie abilities compared to most of FE Cast which is good for a flagship charcter. Really the only reason she did't become FE's mascot and just FEH's is because, it's a gotcha game charcter. people shit on those ALL the time.

Anyway, next CYL they should make all characters votable again and say "Whoever wins the most popular vote will be the Mascot for Fire Emblem until the next game"

why is eirika's cringefail mid-of-all-trades brother here and not the glass canon queen herself 🤨🤨🤨

[every-yumichika]

[hanzajesthanza]

the training montage in crossroads re-ignited a headcanon i had of geralt waking up and doing gymnastics, performing kickflips and mid-air spins around on a fencepost outside an hour before sunrise to ‘limber up,’ and bleary-eyed dandelion wrapping himself up in a blanket to be like "heyyy... what the hell are you doing 💖"

[hilacopter]

torn between not being able to trust goyim to not be antisemitc anymore unless they really prove me otherwise and going "I guess we'll get along" when they find out I'm Israeli and still treat me like a human being

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[skrunksthatwunk]

how do i tell my roommate that her cat repeatedly pissing on and destroying my things is something that people usually offer to clean or replace or apologize for instead of shrugging off

[identityquest]

this is a hyperspecific ask but i was wondering what inspiration you take when you draw raposa legs, if any. i love when people draw raposa with digitigrade legs but ive always had a hard time with them. thanks!

YAH idk how much help this will be bc i feel like the way i draw them is kinda jank but id love to talk about it :)

most of my inspo comes from dog legs actually, with a lil cat and ferret or even rabbit mixed in depending on how i want them to stand. raposa that stand a little taller like, aimsir and wilfre, are more on the dog and cat end of things, while raposa like benji are further out on the ferret and rabbit end. also, all the animals i reference have legs that face directly forward (ideally), but my raposa all have a pretty severe degree of hip dysplasia when viewed from the front lol. i just feel like it makes them visually distinct

also this is also gonna sound silly but if i find myself having trouble with a pose, I'll try to draw a human doing the same thing but with bent knees. digitigrade legs have the same bones as plantigrade ones, just at different sizes, so i kinda just tweak the proportions until i'm satisfied. that's why some of my raposa even look plantigrade but with big ol feet, like in benji's recent sketch page. he's bunny-style plantigrade though, standing on his full foot at rest but running on the tips of his toes like other digitigrade animals.

idk how much help this is but! thats my process and my references :) plus it helps having little guys around the house that you can harass for photos too lol