#just peacefully existing in the same room. that’s how it starts

[appreciatingtokrev]

wait wait wait this is a GREAT idea for angst

it’s also a great idea for hurt/(slight) comfort if you’re delusional enough (like me, for example)

fuck. now i want to write this.

the amount of brainrot i’ve been producing about sanzu’s & takeomi’s relationship (mostly in the bonten timeline) is insane what is this 😭

[sturns-mermaid]

prologue - time traveler ⏰

this goes with my time traveler chris x 80s reader au

you can find it here

no warnings :)

original idea by @forgottxen

proofread by: @throatgoat4u

౨ৎwc: 1.4k? (lowkey forgot)

The three brothers sat in Matt’s room as they streamed for their fans on Twitch. “Hi chat, today we are gonna play a cool game I found,” Nick says as he sits in the gaming chair. “Dude, what? I thought we were playing Fortnite!” Chris protests as he playfully nudges Nick on the head. Nick groans as he spins around in the chair facing the computer. He types the game name in the browser and hears Matt walk into the room and sit on the bed behind them. “Hi guys, how are you?” Matt says waving to the camera and smiling. Nick taps the arm of the chair as he waits for the web page to load. “On our last stream, you guys recommended this game.” The words ‘Time Traveler’ appear on the screen as the game loads up and the menu page appears. “Wait, this looks so cool,” Nick adds, letting out a slight chuckle as he skims through the words on the screen. Chris is now suddenly interested and leans forward in his chair, eyeing the screen and reading the words that appear “Choose a year to travel to” he reads out loud as he watches Nick move the mouse over the options. “Okay, so I did skip over the intro to the game. But you’re a time traveler agent and have to fix certain mishaps that happen throughout the game without creating paradoxes in the universe.” Nick explains as he looks over at Chris, who looks dumbfounded. Chris utters, “I have no idea what you just said,” and lets out a laugh while holding his hands up in mock defense. Nick playfully rolls his eyes as he explains further. “Time traveling by using a wormhole. Creating a paradox is the result of alerting or changing the events in the past that might harm your existence. “What year are you gonna choose?” Matt chirps in as he sees Nick still hasn’t chosen a year in the game. Nick clicks on the 1970s and the screen does a series of animations and explanations. “Oh, we have to make a time traveler ID,” he explains as he fills out the info on the ID before he starts playing the actual game. The game continues as it gives him a backpack with a custom inventory inside and some more rules he has to follow.

An hour passes, and Matt’s now playing along with him as Chris watches. “Wait dang it, I messed up,” Nick mumbles as he accidentally pressed the wrong option, which created a paradox and he failed the level. “I told you not to save that guy!” Matt exclaims as he points to the screen. “Okay, guys, can we play Fortnite now?” Chris chimes in as he groans slightly, shaking Nick’s shoulders as he stands behind the chair.

Later that night, while Nick and Matt were sleeping, Chris lay awake stirring in his bed as he couldn’t fall asleep. He rolls around, annoyed, as he finally has enough and squirms out of bed, grabs his pillow in annoyance and heads upstairs to Matt’s room. He slowly pushed the door open, hearing the wooden frame creek slightly as it revealed Matt sleeping peacefully, his pug stuffed animal tucked safely in his arm. Chris laughed a little at the scene and debated whether he wanted to take a picture and show the fans. As he was about to grab his phone out of his pajama pants pocket, a sudden flashing light distracted him. He turned his head to see Matt’s computer screen light up. He set his pillow down on the end of the bed as he walked over to the screen. The blue light reflecting on his features; he scratched his bare chest as he squinted his eyes at the screen. “It’s this stupid game of course,” he mumbles quietly as he moves the cursor towards the small red x in the corner of the screen. ‘Choose your destination’ appears on the screen just as he is going to exit the game, the same menu he remembers from earlier with the years you can choose from. The screen flashes once more. His curiosity peaked, so he sat down in the game chair and moved the mouse over the screen. Clicking on the 1980s, the screen flashes as the instructions appear. He scoffs slightly, as he doesn’t want to read everything. “Paradoxes, wormholes, blah blah, whatever,” he says as he skims through the words not reading anything thoroughly or the fine print at the bottom which clearly states ‘Don’t play alone at night’. Clicking the accept button, the screen flashes with the prompt to make a time traveler agent ID. He follows the instructions, puts in the info, and clicks the camera to take a picture of himself. The screen flashes as he presses the take button, his eyes widening as he sees the unexpected light capture his tired features and messy hair.

A loading symbol appears on the screen as Chris finds himself entranced in how the circle spins. Finding it oddly satisfying, he feels his eyes start to burn from not blinking. The screen displays an image of swirls and the words ‘You’ve been warned’. He opens his mouth to say something, but the screen flashes repeatedly and a gust of wind appears out of nowhere. He feels himself being dragged into the computer screen. The loud noise of the gusting wind and the loud beeping emitting from the computer muffled his screams. He’s suddenly sucked into the computer screen, his frame spinning around in the air as he tries to grip the edge of Matt’s desk to give him stability. The screen flashes once more and the chair spins as the light dies down, the computer shutting off with a quiet beep. The empty chair that spins slowly and the slight nail marks engraved on the wooden desk are the only things left.

The moonlight casts a dim light over Matt’s room. His sleeping form squirms slightly as he feels a shiver run down his spine. He sits up, the stuffed animal still clenched between his arms as he looks around with blurry, tired eyes. His hand comes up to rub his eyes slightly. “Must’ve been the wind,” he grumbles as he lays back down his groan muffled by his pillow. Chris’s abandoned pillow falls off the bed as Matt stretches to get more comfortable, falling back into his peaceful slumber. Meanwhile, his computer screen lights up once more showing a panicked Chris’ face pressed against the screen as his hands pound on the glass, his mouth moving but no noise coming out before the screen turns black once again.

dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive

-

tag list: @itsmaddielouis , @oliviasthatgirl , @scorpio1205 , @submattenthusiast , @sturniololuv08 , @mattsplaything , @brianna-grace12 , @courta13 , @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan

lmk if you want to be added/removed

a/n: I'M SO EXCITED FOR THIS YAY!! MORE CHAPTERS COMING SOON (๑˃̵　ᴗ　˂̵)و

[jenosbliss]

Hi, can I req for jaemin enemies to lovers with 4, 16 & 23?

pairing. fem!reader x enemy!jaemin | genre. fluff | wc. 2k | warnings. none

a/n. i’ve idea for a part 2 , will probably post it after sometime

‘Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.’ I once read in a book which I regretted reading afterwards but again in another book I read ‘Hating someone feels disturbingly similar to being in love with them.’ The book which goes by the name The Hating Game.

I would have loved that book if it wasn’t an enemies to lovers trope, the only form of romance I dislike the most. Enemies-to-lovers is something which could not exist in real life, you can never fall in love with your enemy, someone you hate from the bottom of your heart. At least I can’t with Na Jaemin .

Not that I want to fall in love with him —it’s even scarier than my worst nightmare— but even thinking about loving or liking that jerk makes me want to throw up.

Yes, you can also say that it’s all just in my head how my friends remind me everyday and who so happily enjoy watching our bickering, our death glares at each other, our hatred for each other. They are living in the daily soap they spend hours watching because only both of us can see the anger and hatred dripping from our eyes.

Even friendship can’t exist between us, jokes on me to even think of friendship when we can’t stand each other if we are in the same room, as snarky comments and death glares fly across the room. No one can stand us together to be honest.

Why do I hate him? I don’t know when my hatred for him even started, maybe it was hate at first sight. Such a self-absorbed, cocksure, smug, stubborn jerk he is. The way he walks, the way he talks, the way he smiles, the way he looks —he’s handsome almost like a Greek God, but I’m not going to accept it— just his whole existence pisses me off. Also not like he ever gave me a reason to change the way I felt for him cause he reciprocates my feelings, if not more.

“I’m not sharing the room with him.” Trying my best to tone my voice down I yelled at my friend who was allotting the rooms. “Y/n try to understand please, we don’t have any more rooms left.” She pleaded, pulling me inside her room.

When my friends asked me if I wanted to be a part of this two-day holiday to the beach, never had I imagined that when I would enter the room of the hotel we’re staying for the weekend I would find him sprawled –like a starfish– on the bed, the bed I was supposed to spend the night peacefully on!

“But you know I can’t stand him even for a second! No, change his room.” huffing, I crossed my arms around my chest. “But all the other rooms are occupied y/n, you came late so…” she trailed off, fueling my anger even more. “I didn’t turn up late on purpose! I had informed you beforehand that I’ll be late!” Looking behind her I saw a figure coming out of the bathroom.

“Maybe your boyfriend, who happens to be his friend” rolling my eyes I continued “can switch the room with me?” That’s the most I can give in, I’m ready to switch the rooms which should’ve been him instead. “C’mon Y/N! I understand the tension between you two is as high as Mount Everest…” gasping dramatically I passed her an offensive look, there was no tension between us, it was just hate.

Ignoring me she continued “… but everyone has needs and I have a life too, I want to spend some time with my boyfriend. So will you please let us? It’s just a matter of tonight. We’ll sort something out tomorrow. It's already past 2, go sleep.” Even before she finished her short monologue I was pushed out of the room with a large wooden door slammed shut in my face.

Was she for real? If she planned this whole trip just to fuck her boyfriend she didn’t have to ask me! Why make my already not so good life even worse? Stomping my way aggressively to the room I grabbed my head in frustration.

“It’s just for a night, you can do it y/n. Calm down. Relax.” Taking a deep breath I tried to prepare myself, “Or you always have a second option if things go out of your hands, killing” A little voice inside my head said. It’s not like this voice has appeared for the first time. Last week when he “accidentally” spilled his iced tea on me, I was about to throw the chair I was sitting on his face. This voice appeared that time too. “I don’t wanna go to jail because of such a useless human.” I thought.

“You know it’s better to sleep than making plans to kill me and I’m not useless.” The door opened to reveal him with an utterly idiotic smirk. Can he read minds too? Okay I’m in trouble then, no I didn’t think anything for which you should smirk too but all my plans of tricking him will be known.

“Are you a stalker or what?” Pushing him away I entered the room, which was supposed to be mine. “No darling, your footsteps can be heard around ten miles from here. I just happen to have great hearing skills.” He whispered the last part.

I could have replied, I could have continued this which would soon turn into bickering but I was too tired for that, I just wanted to sleep peacefully, ironically peace and Na Jaemin don’t come together. So let me change my statement, I just wanted to sleep at any cost.

“Here, take the pillow, sleep on the couch.” Throwing the fluffy white material filled with soft feathers at him, I started unpacking my bag to take out my night clothes. “And why should I listen to you?” He plopped down on the bed, stretching out. “Jaemin, right now I’m not in the mood to argue.” Raising my hand, I shook my head.

“Neither am I, but I’m as stubborn as you. Which means I am not sleeping on the couch.” Closing my bag I faced him, as stubborn as me? It’s not a good start, it can never be with him. “Why are you like this?” Scowling, I moved to the bathroom. “Why are you like this?” He mimicked. God, save this guy from me.

Coming back to the room after changing my clothes I saw him still lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone. Rolling my eyes out of annoyance I walked up to my side of the bed and started putting the spare pillows and cushions between us. “Is this really necessary?” Sparing a glance at what I was doing he asked.

“Very much necessary, I don’t want to wake up with your limbs around me in the morning.” Even the thought of it disgusted me. “But this is eating up too much space.” He complained. “Better than you eating me-” Realising how wrong that must have sounded I looked at him, who had that mischievous smirk which made me furious. “That one sounds better.” He lied back down.

“Shut that mouth of yours and sleep.” Switching off the lights I faced the other direction. “It's hot when you talk back, princess.” He teased, I hate these nicknames so much!

I shouldn’t have come on this trip, everything about it was wrong. First, sharing the room with Jaemin , almost fighting with my friend and the worst of all coming even though I twisted my ankle –the sole reason I was late– to the hotel. My left ankle felt as if someone was slowly cutting it off with a sharp axe, it’s so painful!

Groaning, I shifted to the other side, trying to get in a comfortable position to fall asleep, forgetting about the man next to me. “Are you uncomfortable?” A husky voice made my eyes shoot open to find the sleepy ones of Jaemin already on me. “What do you expect when you’re lying next to me?” Scoffing, he shifted closer much to my dismay.

“Look I know your ankle hurts cause Junhee told me you’re at the hospital getting your ankle treated so don’t try to pull up an act.” Taken aback by his interest in me –I know she’ll never tell him about my whereabouts until he asks– I questioned further. “Why did you ask her about me?” How dumb of me to raise an eyebrow as if he would see it.

For the first time in the three years I have known him he stuttered when talking to me, was he that taken aback by my question? Omg y/n don’t forget to write it in your diary. “H-huh? I- I…” he cleared his throat “I thought I was using this room alone when Junhee came and asked if you could stay in this room too as you were late and there weren’t any spare rooms left… so I asked why you were late…” this sounds convincing, not very much but it does.

“Oooh. By the way, what about your girlfriend? Shouldn’t you be on this trip with her and the one you should be sharing the room with?” I smirked. My eyes were begging me to sleep but my brain forced me to put up this question. “We broke up a year ago.” He deadpanned as I facepalmed myself mentally. What a stupid question!

“So you haven’t dated for a year?” I gasped genuinely shocked. “Yes.” Wait really, the OH SO GODLY Jaemin hasn’t dated anyone FOR A YEAR!! “Not even a fling?” I was about to get up but the stinging pain in my ankle pulled me back. “You own my heart” he said, was it my heart skipping a beat? No y/n don’t be fooled by him! “C’mon tell me.” Slapping lightly on his arm I whined.“No. Not even a fling.” He repeated. “Woah, wow! I mean it’s surprising.” It was surprising, at least to me. “Is it? Because I thought you knew the girl very well I’m interested in so I don’t think it should surprise you.” He whispered. Wait what?

Leaning his head on his elbow he stared in my eyes, even though it was dark –nothing could be seen as there was very little light coming from the curtained window– but his eyes shone in this darkness, as if they were the only source of light in this dark room, as if they are the most beautiful pair of eyes to ever exist, as if I could stare at them forever, as if I could drown in th-

‘What the hell are you thinking y/n!? You hate him, you can’t like him! He’s your enemy’ the same voice from before alarmed me, it was right, he’s my enemy…

“Did you take painkillers?” He questioned, eyes not leaving mine. “Yes, after dinner I did.” Neither did I break the gaze. “Then we can try this.” With this said he stood up, took two pillows –which were used to limit our respective bed spaces ‘by me’– and placed one of the pillows under my leg which had been aching and the other beside it as if securing my ankle.

“I hope it’s better than before.” His eyes creased, hinting the smile on his lips. “It is, thank you.” mumbling, I closed my eyes shut not wanting to let my thoughts move freely. ``Sleep y/n, you just need to sleep.’

“Sleep well y/n and don’t worry I won’t throw my limbs on top of you.” the mattress next to me dipped inwards, he had lied down, probably facing the other side I hope. Opening my eyes I looked at his face, so close to me… I really hate this guy.

I hate him because firstly he didn’t face the other side, secondly he made me feel all these weird things for him and thirdly, he didn’t keep his promise. After he had fallen asleep and probably I was too I felt his arms curling around my torso as he shifted closer to me.

I even heard him mumbling something along the lines of "It's time to stop lying to ourselves." Maybe I was dreaming, maybe not but I couldn’t care less right now because he felt warm, and I liked that warmth. Maybe he isn’t that bad, maybe I shouldn’t hate him this much.

navigwation.

nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

100 follower event 🌷

[heeswifetypeshi]

THOSE EYES

NCT: MARK

warnings: none

synopsis: Mark comes back home from a terrible day and finds comfort and solace in you. He doesn't want anything or anyone except you.

pairings: idol!mark x non idol!fem reader

genre: fluff

I'm going to kill myself if I don't get home. All I want to do is go home and wrap my arms around her. All I want to do is stay with her even if time flows away cause there's no other place i want to be, no other person I'd wanna be with except her.

It's a tiring day at the studio and the manager seemed to have a problem almost every single minor note in our new song to point he raised dour voice at us. I had to go back to the studio, recheck everything all over again and finally after thirty minutes of discussion, we decided to rerecord our song, once again and after a tiring day at work, it was around 10:30 PM when the manager was finally satisfied and dismissed us.

I rush back home, and my members think it's because I'm really tired and maybe I am but more importantly I want to go back home to the love of my life. My whole body feels elevated at the thought of going back home to her.

I'm back home and I'm greeted by the fresh scent of floral musk. Y/N always uses this scent as a room freshner everyday after cleaning the house and it reminds me that I should thank her for cleaning my appartment. She's been nothing but a genuine sweetheart to me ever since we moved in, infact ever since we started secretly started dating. With the tiring work and packed schedule, it's the greatest joy to find solace in someone so dearly loved and it's exactly the same with Y/N and I.

The lights are off and I assume she's asleep. I carefully remove my shoes, and enter the appartment, cautious not to wake her up. When I reach our shared room, my heart swells. She's sleeping so peacefully, the curves of her face relaxed. I slowly slid into the bed but being the light sleeper she is, Y/N stirs in her sleep and slightly shifts but before she could do so, I put my hand, sliding up and down her back. "Hey sweetheart, it's just me, it's alright, go to bed." I assure her in a whisper.

"Hey, it's fine, I'm not really tired, I was just waiting for you to come back home." She says in a sleepy tone, and my heart does a little flip.

"Aww sweetie, it's fine really, you can sleep. " I tell her.

"But I want to cuddle." She says, her doe eyes shining in the dark room. I really love this woman with my whole heart.

I let out a lovesick sigh and tell her, "Alright then, let me take a shower first." She smiles at me and my goodness I can't get enough of her.

I step out of the shower, with a towel drying my hair. I wear a pair of grey sweatpants and I look for a shirt before I realise that Y/N was wearing my brown plaid shirt and a pair of black shorts that barely reaches down her thighs. I chuckle to myself and make my way to our shared bed. I take it that she's asleep and go through my phone and before I can dim down the light, she shifts slightly and says, "Babe, spoon me." in a soft childish tone.

I laugh softly before turning to her side, her back faced towards me and lean my head on her shoulder and wrap my arms around her waist, her cheek grazing mine. When she turns to me, she smiles and kisses my cheek. I'm in utter awe and lean forward to kiss her cheek, eliciting a sweet tone of laughter from her.

She looks at me, and I'm falling, infact  drowning in her hazel brown eyes. There's a mole on her cheek and the tip of her nose and I lean down to place a kiss on her moles, her dimples and I just soak in her vanilla scent. I'm so addicted to her, so in love and I'm not complaining at all. I do not have a single problem at all. I'm just obsessed with her, can't live without her as if my existence depends on her very being.

And again she looks at me and smiles and I just fall again. Fall deeper this time. Words aren't enough to describe how much I just love her, just because. I love her for her. I love her because she is herself. She was there when I thought I could handle it by myself, when I least expect. She's always there, brightening my day even when I know the rest of the day is filled with dread. I can't thank her enough for making me want to see ever new day.

I find comfort, warmth and love in her eyes as I stare back at her.  Her beautiful eyes are all I need, in her beautiful eyes. It's the same eyes she gives me whenever we're on a date, viewing the city. It's the same eyes she gives me when we're out in the night, laughing loud and nobody knows why. It's the same eyes she gives me when we're lost in a club getting drunk. It's the same eyes she gives when we're done making love and she looks up at me with those eyes. And I'd never want anything more, anything less.

And it's the small things she does, the gestures she makes, that remind me why I love her. And everytime she's not with me, whenever I'd close my eyes, all I see is her. And it's everything she is, that I love her with all that I am. I don't have much to offer, but she accepted me without hesitation. Her eyes, her face, her smile, her body, her love is all I'll ever need in life.

I peck her cheek and say, " I love you Y/N, you know that?"

She smiles and kisses my lips, her love pouring out in front of me. She breaks the kiss and says, "I love you more, Mark. More than you could know."

I lean into her shoulder and neck, pressing a soft kiss there before snuggling her in my arms. She holds my hands from the front and we're both overtaken by our sleep and we're left with our love and the assurance that I'll wake up with her by my side, like always.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 15

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Ale ran around the lawn of Crown Castle’s gardens, his fluffy fur similar to freshly-baked sponge cake flowing with his movement.

Kate: The weather is nice and it’s fun running around with Ale.

Ellis: Hehe, it is fun. Kate’s happy face is cute.

Liam: Since Kate and Ale came, we’ve had more time for stuff like this.

Ellis: Yeah, you’re right.

(Ever since I’ve started helping out with looking after Ale, I’ve naturally been able to spend more time with everyone outside of missions)

When I squinted at the bright sunlight, I caught a figure through a window.

(Ah, Roger!)

When our eyes met, I waved at him in his room.

(...I hope I’m not making some kind of face. Am I smile naturally?)

(Ah, but he could hear my heartbeat from there if he wanted to…Calm down, calm down)

I acted as if everything was the same as usual, but my mind was full of memories from last night.

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: If I were to fall in love, then I’d want us to fall together.

Because of that, I won’t ever confess that I like you until you believe that love exists.

~~ End flashback ~~

(I did pretty much just admit that I liked Roger)

By the time I noticed how the drug named Roger made its way into my body, it was already too late.

However…it didn’t matter how much I liked Roger if it was unrequited.

(Yeah. I want Roger to like me back)

Kate: …Looks like I’m more selfish than I thought.

Liam: Hehe, you’re talking out loud. Is it about Roger?

Kate: …How did you know?

Liam: If anyone didn’t, then they’re seriously ill. They should be sent to a hospital for being so clueless.

(I guess it’s that obvious…)

I looked away in embarrassment and Liam smiled beautifully like a rose.

Kate: I boasted that I’d be able to teach him about romantic love, but ended up falling for him…I’m so frustrated and embarrassed.

I don’t know why I can freely admit my feelings to anyone but Roger himself.

Liam: It can’t be helped. The human heart’s the most unpredictable thing in the world. It’d be so much easier if your heart followed your brain.

Liam’s eyes were downcast as he smiled. It felt like he wanted to abandon everything, like he was touching death’s fingers.

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: Would it be good or evil to make curses disappear from this world?

You don’t have to answer me now. When it comes to you, let me know.

~~ End flashback ~~

(...The more I learned about the Cursed, the less I was able to answer the question)

Alec and Roger’s past, Lance’s death, Ellis who was next handed the Briar Bushes curse, and Liam before me.

(Values change so rapidly that it’s puzzling)

(But I shouldn’t stop thinking about it)

Liam: I’d like to see it. Roger being so smitten with you, I mean.

I’d like to see it too.

I hope it happens.

I’ll do my best. +4 +4

Kate: Then I’ll do my best!

Liam: Yeah, that’s the spirit. Unlike me, Roger’s a rational one. That’s why it’d be interesting to see someone like him be madly in love.

Kate: Hehe, was that a wicked look just now?

Liam: I’m cursed with being led by my own curiosity. So you’ll have to excuse my wicked interest.

(I don’t know if you can make curses disappear)

(I wonder if that’s a good thing. However…)

Kate: I promise when Roger’s smitten with me, I’ll let you know.

Sometimes it’s the small promises that are important to live for.

Liam: I’m looking forward to it.

As I smiled back at Liam, Ale and Ellis came back from playing.

(Ah, that’s right)

Kate: Um, do you know a place where I can get some beautiful flowers? I thought you two would be familiar with what’s popular.

Liam: Of course, but are they a present for someone?

Kate: You heard about how a Cursed One named Lance died the other day, right? I heard he was buried at a public cemetery and wanted to go leave some flowers.

(Lance won’t ever come back…so I hope he can rest peacefully)

Ellis: Then how about sharing the flowers from Victor’s garden? He grows flowers as a hobby. I saw him walking around with flowers this morning and I’m sure he’ll share them if you ask.

Kate: Hehe, I wasn’t aware. I’ll go ask him then.

Liam: That’s fine, but I’m worried about you going to the cemetery all by yourself. Lately, young people have been getting attacked or going missing.

Ellis: Do you mean the incidents Victor and Will are investigating?

(I do remember the barkeep saying something like that)

Unfortunately these incidents weren’t uncommon in Britain given its large population.

There is as much darkness as there are people.

(It could be related to how the girl Lance liked was killed)

Liam: I wish I could go with you but I have rehearsal…

Ellis: Sorry. I have work at Jude’s company.

Liam: Ah, Harrison might be free this afternoon.

Kate: I can’t be a bother to everyone! I’ll be fine going alone. I’ll just take Crown’s carriage to the cemetery and come back before it gets dark.

Liam: Oh? Then I guess we don’t need to worry too much.

Ale: Arf arf.

Kate: Ah, seems like Ale will be coming with me.

Ellis: Then take care of Kate, Ale.

Ale: Woof.

--

Victor had gladly shared his flowers with me and now Ale and I were being rocked around in a carriage.

When I glanced out the window, the carriage stopped not too far from the cemetery.

(Huh? But the cemetery’s still a bit of a ways down)

The coachman got off his seat, opened the door, and signed to me.

(“The road ahead…is too narrow for a carriage to take to the cemetery…”)

I somehow managed to read the sign language that I had just recently learned and tore a page out of my notebook to write a reply.

“Thank you. Please wait here, I’ll be back soon.”

I passed the paper to the coachman and alighted the carriage.

--

The sky started turning red as dusk approached.

(The cemetery’s really close. I’ll be in and out in no time)

We walked down the path leading to the cemetery.

For a while, the only sound was the grass being blown by the wind until— 

Ale: Arf arf arf.

Ale, who was walking ahead of me, suddenly turned and started barking.

Kate: Ale, what’s…

The bouquet fell from my arms.

I felt a cloth smelling like chemicals press against my nose and lost consciousness— 

--

Elbert: …

Elbert wandered around the castle looking for something, his face paler than ever.

Then—

Roger: Yo, El. Have you seen the ‘lil lady around? I wanted to get her to do some work for me, but haven’t seen her for a while.

Having found who he was looking for, Elbert rushed over to Roger.

Elbert: Roger. Listen to me calmly. It’s possible that Kate was kidnapped.

Roger: Kate? What do you mean?

Ellis: What you just said, is it true…?

They turned around and saw Jude and Ellis who had just come back from work.

Jude: The princess got kidnapped? By who?

Elbert: I’m not sure. Earlier in the garden, a coachman came up to me looking terribly disturbed. He said that he dropped Kate off not far from the cemetery, but no matter how long he waited, she never came back. He went to go look for her, but only found Ale. Here, he gave me this.

He handed Roger a piece of paper with “I’ll be back soon” written in Kate’s handwriting.

Roger: …

Ellis: Kate wanted to go leave flowers on the grave of the Cursed One who passed a few days ago. She said she’d take a carriage and be back before sundown, so she’d be fine.

Jude: That’s Saint Cemetery. Got a road so narrow that carriages pass through. Somethin’ must’ve the moment she got out.

Elbert: We don’t know what happened, but we can’t waste any time. What do we do, Roger?

Roger: …

There was nothing reflected in Roger’s eyes.

Elbert: …Roger?

Elbert waved his hand in front of Roger’s face and the latter blinked in surprise.

Roger: …

Ellis: Roger, are you okay?

Roger: Yeah…sorry. Just…a little shaken.

Elbert and Ellis: …(°ロ°)

Roger took a deep breath as if to calm himself, eyes now focused.

Roger: This likely has something to do with the recent incidents. Let’s tell Victor first and then gather the rest of Crown.

--

When news of Kate’s disappearance broke, all of Crown assembled.

Victor: Her Majesty gathers information from the masses. If Kate was kidnapped, then it’s believed to be related to the incidents.

Ellis: …So it is related to the incidents targeting young people. But why?

Jude: Human traffickin’, kidnappin’, murder for fun, there’s all sorts of reasons.

Victor: As you’re aware, Will and I have been looking into the culprit. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to identify them yet. However, based on where the victims have gone missing, we’ve been able to identify possible bases.

He spread a map of London out on the table.

Four areas were circled in red—

Victor: If Kate was kidnapped, she could be in any of these locations.

Roger: …

Victor: We don’t have time to waste. Crown will split into four teams and search each location.

Jude: I’ll be collectin’ a huge reward when I find the princess.

--

Jude: You’re up, ya dumb dog. Lead us to our dumb Fairytale Keeper.

Roger: Ale, I’m counting on you.

Ale: Woof.

A team of Roger, Jude, and Ale boarded a carriage and were now passing through a dense forest.

— Suddenly, the piercing sound of horses neighing was heard and the carriage screeched to a stop.

Roger: What the…?

Nica: Wie geht es dir (How do you do), Crown? Pardon me.

There was a polite knock on the carriage door and one of “Vogel’s” twins boarded the carriage.

Roger: You…

Nica: I just saw the Queen’s aide looking pale*. I heard Robin has gone missing?

Roger: If you already know, then get out. We don’t have time for you.

Nica: Don’t want to. Did the good doctor forget that we’re here to deepen our friendship? I’m telling you I’ll help you. I might be of some use?

Jude: …Oi, quack. We gotta move.

Roger: If you don’t wanna get kicked out then behave, older twin.

Nica: Allerdings (Of course), I’ll behave.

The carriage started moving again— 

Only Nica was happily petting Ale in his lap, as if he were on his way to a holiday resort.

His POV | Next

-

*Alternatively, red with anger. 血相を変えた was used, which in a literal sense, means ‘to change facial expression or color’. It’s contextual and in this case, Victor could be either.

[greekceltic]

Jacky has a haunted arm. It started as a roleplay thing that I didn't think I would make canon, but I probably will. The situations it creates are fun. Anyway, for our amusement she can use it to touch ghosts so she scared hers. (Art doesn't quite match the writing). You can read the roleplay clip under the read more or on toyhouse.

GreekCeltic-

Junior was where she left him. He glanced at her. Same face. Same bags under his eyes and blushless pallor. What did that bandit say?

  When eyes meet, the soul has made love?

Yeah he was wrong.

Junior turned back around and she wondered how far she could walk before he was compelled to join her. She felt a little bad for not asking, but the feeling had no stay power. His wants and needs took a backseat to hers and she had found a way to make herself okay with that.

He could talk. It was within his power to ask her to put him in someone else’s care any time he wanted. After being left in the woods she could understand why he wouldn't want to be parked on Vlinder's hearth- in the same forest -but there were other people in their group who would travel. All basically good people.

Picking her was self sabotage.

Idiot.

She walked all the way in and shut the door behind her. The wind feathered a few rug ends but didn't bother with him.

  Maybe he's like AI and can't defy me, she wondered. Like bullshit television. She had never made the leap that it could be worse. Jacky felt that she was babysitting and had exactly as much authority as a teenager over a nine year old. In the end, not very much at all. She kept waiting for his tantrum, wanting it because after all that had happened it would make sense, even be healthy, but it never came.

She stumbled back toward the fur mat she had grown to hate since she woke up and stared down at it, too tired to sleep. There was such a thing. Jacky swayed weakly near it and turned away.

She looked at him again and ground her bottom jaw.

  Dummy should be begging to leave.

She hated the way he idled against the wall like a toy soldier waiting for something to do. That was the kind of thing that got ice put down your shorts at sleep overs. The idea of that made her spine prickle in a bad way, but it made her think. Jacky tilted back and lidded her eyes. She reached for one of the support pillars and rested her weight on it, two feet closer to him.   I could do it. She moved her feet, taking care not to scuff them on the floor. She didn't have to worry about the boards creaking. If they didn't notice Vlinder they weren't going to notice her. There were no more pillars between them, but she thought she'd make it. She tried, and on the way thought about how many nights he'd spent right there in a different room. Waiting or staring, as engaged as a coat put away on a hanger. He didn't even breathe loudly because he didn't breathe anymore.   DO something! The last few feet ended with her wobbling behind him, alarmingly silent, but not very steady. She reflexively tried to grab his shirt to pull it back with her good hand, but it went right through. Jacky didn't stop to wonder if he'd noticed that. She stuck her *cold* hand out like a senile old woman with a fork. It went up his shirt and flattened on the part where his back sank in. It worked when she slapped him. No reason to think it wouldn't work now. Themascura--

The target of her ire had no idea.   None.   He was peacefully existing in a corner, appreciating the window. It was nice to have a different view. He liked trees. Not enough to have been okay with just their company for a few millennia, but enough to be okay staring at them for a few days.   It was pretty out there. There were squirrels. And birds! Not many of those in the city. The cats had mostly eaten them all-   Jacky was about to learn a whole lot of things in quick succession. One, she could in fact scare the shit out of a ghost. Two, despite being dead ghosts did in fact have startle responses. Three, when she was touching a ghost with her ghost hand apparently walls became interactable- because he slapped the window/wall with his belly when he jumped and it made a sound.   A beautiful hollow sound, like when you thumped a watermelon.   He left a foggy mark on the window when he hopped back. He was still hopping when he turned around, trying to shake the ice cube out of his shirt. His spine was still flickering when he got all the way turned- visible through his shirt and his front and almost as far as his shoulders. The look he gave her was universal. The sibling glance of- I WAS MINDING MY BUSINESS.   Here you are, starting some shit. He stuck a hand straight out for her face, confident it would go through, but also confident it would mess with her already wonky balance and depth perception. Time for you to take a time out on the floor. You pushed your luck to far today anyway.

GreekCeltic-- His reaction was Christmas. She wasn't sure what to make of his spine. Jacky looked at her hand and wondered if it had cannibalized him somehow. A week ago she had dumped all the extra stuff into Christoph's leg. That had been a surprise. Christoph was alive, there was no way to know it wouldn't do the opposite and suck Junior up like a straw, like it had Virgil's magic.   Oough, there was a mental image she did not enjoy. When she touched Christoph she went with a gut feeling that turned out to be right. Here too she decided to go with a gut feeling-- that it was fine. "Oh excuse me did I interrupt your vacant staring?" Jacky's hand was still up, she dropped it and raised her other one, rubbing her arm furiously like she was trying to warm it up. Cold fire appeared and walked toward her elbow. "Gonna do it again." She spread the fire to her good hand but she never got to try it. He threw his at her face- IN her face -and she spilled in stages. Mostly in slow, wobbly, backwards walking motions that ended up near the bed. She fell against the edge. She had been put to bed. OBNOXIOUS. Jacky leaned into her sprawled arm and chose to be happy he showed some life. She didn't think she could get up without crawling on all fours and that wouldn't be preferable. She was also tired. It was possible she had never been so tired in her life. She crawled over the edge and fell into the divot like a kitten into a laundry basket. She slept all of the night and most of the next day. The only time she got up was to wash. She made a point of it so history wouldn't have to repeat itself. Who knows how many rag baths she got during the week. One was too many. Two would have been life ending. Her hair was close to dry when she went back to sleep. She tried to make it longer, but felt harassed that she was not alone. Dreams had been hard to remember the first week, but they were piling up now. She didn't know if she was remembering things or adding fantasies to what she did. All she knew was she couldn't be her own witness. With each waking she was a little more confused and a little more convinced she shouldn't have gone back for the brooch. It could have waited. At the time the idea of leaving Junior out there to believe no one was coming was too much and it was too much now, but was it worth it?   The elf was back when she got up, laying beside her with his arm folded behind his head.   Him again. Jacky looked at him a minute, but decided she didn't really care. She didn't know why. It should have embarrassed her but it was like sleeping with a big white dog. She got the feeling he thought of her as a cat. She looked across the room and saw Herman on his back against the wall, also asleep. Some kind of spell had fallen over this house. She and Junior were exempt. She grabbed her poncho and went out the front door. The moonlit air was bright and icy. She wasn't wearing her shoes but she didn't expect to go far and wanted the snow to bite her feet a little. It felt good even when it stung. When she got to the gate she put her hand on it and flipped up the latch (too complicated for a dead guy, apparently), but never pushed it forward. It would have been easy, but the idea of the gate held fast. There was a bigger obstacle here than a physical one. I shouldn't, Jacky thought. More like I can't. She'd been thinking about this a lot and the conclusion she came to was damned if I do, damned if I don't.

[byalexisness]

☆none like you

Eita Otoya x fem! reader

anonymous asked: hii!!! first i just wanna say that im in LOVE with how u write and how u portray the boys as yanderes sm!! like i just cannot stop rereading ur stories secondly i wanted to request one for otoya eita? where like: at first he treated reader like another fling, but when he notices that reader doesn't come running after him like the rest; he tries to get reader to like do that, but then becomes obsessed with reader in the process? im not sure if my request is understandable but i hope it is!! (ÓÓ) p.s no rush! u can take as long as u want, idm the wait!! <33

hiii, i'm really sorry for my absence and for the fact that this took so so so long and it's honestly so disappointing :(( i had no motivation to write and no ideas :( and i REALLY appreciate your love ty bby <3 content warning: yandere behavior, stalking, implied violence (not towards the reader)

at first, you were like the rest. a normal college girl, with your cute uniform and average grades, you didn't stand out in any way.

for him, you were just a...meh. he didn't really pay attention to you, just knowing you existed as his classmate, just another woman.

that's all he thought you were...

...until one day, when he tried to hit up on you and got a little surprise. instead of blushing, stuttering and acting like a high-school girl whose first crush interacted with her, you did...nothing, basically.

the conversation still replays in his mind to this day.

you were sitting in the college classroom, headphones on your head as you peacefully scrolled through your phone.

"well, hello there, cutie." he started with the same thing he tells every single girl, which, usually, makes them flustered.

you looked at him and, after blinking confused, you seemed to...cringe. as if it creeped you out to be flirted with.

"hello?" you greeted back, confused. "can i help you?"

"yeah, perhaps...you could..." he said as he leaned on your table. "...give me your number?"

blinking confused again, you cocked a brow. after a slight scoff, you shook your head.

"i'm not interested."

that was not the reaction he expected, at all.

and the fact that it didn't only happen once, but twice made it even worse.

eita was so used to girl chasing him that, when his advances got rejected, he felt hurt.

not in his heart, but in his ego.

you hurt his fragile ego so, you could only pay the price, right? and what better way to pay him back was there to exist rather than just straight up making you obsessed with him? just like any other girl, you have to fall for his charms, right?

right?

absolutely wrong.

during his weeks of continually chasing after you, by easily inserting himself into your small friendgroup, following you around, sitting next to you in every class you shared (simply making it that you two spend as much time togheter as possible), his whole plan went down the hill.

instead of having you become obsessed with him, he became obsessed with you.

it was just something about your appearance, about how you walked, about your voice...about you, overall, that made him lose his mind.

eita had no idea how and why did it happen, but he paid it no mind. he gaslit himself that he wasn't obsessed, that everything was just a part of his plan to make you love him so he could hurt your feelings.

not even karasu ever saw him like this.

that, until he found himself secretly beating up every boy that flirted with you or every person that generally upseted you...even if it was a simple reply that bothered you in your conversation with you.

he knew your schedule by heart, he knew where you went most of the time. he had dozens of photos of you kept in a secret compartiment of his room.

it was...concerning, really. and he knew it well enough.

and when he found out about what his best friend was up to, karasu tried to warn him... he really tried to convince otoya that his behavior was absolutely not normal. but to no use.

nothing and nobody could break otoya out of the spell you unknowingly put him under.

it was twisted and sick but he was in love.

deeply.

and it wouldn't end too pretty for you either.

[let-me-be-an-egg-toast]

reposting this because...why the fuck not

Original idea from @the-patchwork-girl-of-oz!

(im using my version of the characters (specifically their designs) so they may be described very differently from their canon counterparts!!)

Dorothy has succumbed to gentle slumber once again, snoring softly in the corner of the room. Toto lay against her rising and falling chest, the little canine also sleeping under her arm.

That's one of the few things that separate them from the Tin Woodman and his dear friend, the Scarecrow, the former supposes. He ponders idle thoughts while gazing upon the soft blue paint of the wall, while his friend laid on the ground, peacefully motionless. There was lots of this blue in this land, for it was Munchkinland, and the citizens' favorite was simply just blue.

If he were any other regular being, the Tin Woodman supposes he would be sick of seeing all this blue, but he wasn't, and he just stared at its splendor on the wall. It reminded him of many things - the far-away sky, the haunting rain, his little friend's checker dress....and one specific pair of eyes that he found he just can't tear his own away from recently.

"What are you thinking about?" The ever so keen Scarecrow asks, watching him with those oh-so blue button eyes. They were not of the same size, with the left one being slightly bigger and only having two holes, but the Tin Woodman supposes that was part of its simple beauty. They were given to his dear friend by a kind Munchkin girl after he had been brutally torn to bits by those horrible winged primates. That very moment forcefully hit the Tin Woodman straight into his core with the reality of just how vulnerable the Scarecrow can be, yet still be persistent and determined all the same.

"Nick?"

He snaps out of his thoughts to look at his companion, only to be slightly horrified he has been looking at the Scarecrow all this time.

"I am alright, dear Scarecrow. I was just thinking about how this wall matches your eyes."

"....I never realized that."

The Tin Woodman lets out a little chuckle. The Scarecrow raises himself a little to get a closer look at the blue wall.

"Huh. I suppose it does."

"It is Munchkinland after all."

The Scarecrow nods in agreement. "It is."

He lays back down.

"Do you like the color?"

"What?" The Tin Woodman turns to his dear friend, a little surprised.

"You like to stare at my eyes often. Now you're staring at the wall."

If he still had a flesh-made heart that pumped blood through veins that once existed, he sword he would've flushed. His gears did start to turn more, and warmth was starting to build up.

"...how long have you been noticing?"

"Well..." The Scarecrow tilted slightly to the side. "Ever since you started doing it."

Now he really was overheating. He felt the hot air push and escape through his pipes, which certainly did not go unnoticed by his companion, who simply laughed.

"I'm not sure if it's entirely the color," he finally admitted. "I'm still figuring it out."

The Scarecrow hummed in contemplation.

"Lay with me."

"What?"

"Lay with me," the Scarecrow repeated. "You'll get to have a close look at my eyes, and you'll figure out if it's just the color - or something else entirely."

The Tin Woodman then became stiff, almost as if he was rusted again, and he slowly lowered himself on the ground, right against his dear friend, who scooted a bit closer to him.

And so they stared at each other for a long time.

"Have you figured it out yet?" The Scarecrow suddenly asked, not impatiently.

"Not yet." The Tin Woodman turned to his side, now truly facing his lovely companion. "Maybe I'm just going to need more time."

The Scarecrow laughed softly, and the Tin Woodman wrapped an arm around him, and they gazed into each other's eyes for a long, long time.

(Finally posted it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61137988)

[crayonsquadlilac]

I had to scribble out his ending dialogue. I just couldn't lose this image i had in my head, of this poor charachter who tried his best still (for lack of a better word) dying, and not screaming or crying when it's happening but instead saying this and then gently apologizing, like it's his fault, and that's the last he ever says. I think this scene's gonna stick with me for a while.

I'm actually so sick about him like god like "I've wasted my whole life hiding, I think I should try saying hello." God. Me when the character is kind and well meaning and funny and silly and yet tragic by nature. Me when the character never gets the good ending they deserved (in a well written way.). What the Hell. God

Super Ultra Rambling under the readmore if you're curious about my elaborate Thoughts;

Ik is my favorite charachter because he is very silly and my best friend ever in the world but also because of the Tragedies. He's a person used to fear, a people pleaser, who let mr. Sob manipulate him and turn his hotel into something he never wanted, simply pretending it was still the same, who spends the whole game trying so hard to keep you in high spirits and unworried even when he himself is terrified. Someone who cares too much and tries so hard and probably never even gave nearly as much to himself as he did to others. Even at the end, as he describes to you all the horrors that unfolded on earth, he makes jokes and quips and keeps up his goofy manner of speaking despite the information clearly disturbing him.

When he tells you the story of his death, he never once mentions anything about how sad it is, and if you respond with "I'm sorry," he says like basically "oh it's fine," before hesitating with a concerned look on his face. His death may be something he avoids thinking about a lot.

And describing him, i can't help but relate to him, understand him, perhaps that's why I am so Insane about him right now.

I think this game is about, no matter what happens, at the end of it all it will still be the end. It may even end sooner than you'd expect. The human race before dying out solved all their problems and created a perfect world, Ik tried hard to do good and make people happy, Mr. Sob gained his own twisted control over many souls of the afterlife, you the player just kept going onward as much you could, but they all came to the same unceremonious end. I suppose it all matters on your perspective- do you focus on the ending, or how you got there?

When Ik tells you about his death, he describes how he saw the stars, and the view of his town from all the way high up, how he stopped and looked for a long time. But he couldn't stay forever, he had to keep moving. I think that's the part that mattered most. Even in so terrible a situation, he got something beautiful out of it. And like i guess part of the game is, "we can't stop what's coming, there's no use hiding, so we may as well face it with a smile and a greeting." Or maybe more like "the time will pass anyways" type of thing. If that makes sense.

I've seen some people interpret the Morning as everyone is brought to a final resting place peacefully. And of course, it's wide open for everyone to interpret it however, but for me personally I thiiiink Ik was probably right about it being the end of time. The thing seemed a little bit too obliterating-you-type-deal in the final cutscene. All the humans are dead and it's time for their afterlife to go too now. Maybe it's to make room for something that'll replace us, or to start over from scratch with everything, but for all the human souls, it's the end.

Maybe the sole survivor of all existence is Shrimp, in the afterlife, always running from the Morning, wandering for eternity. Which i say to be silly but also that would be really sad actually. He'd be alone... he'd get hungry and there'd be no one there to feed him lounge chairs and tables and glass vases..... poor shrimp..........

I don't know if it would have been better or worse if you could just find his abandoned collar on the ground somewhere before that last lantern. Probably worse actually. Yeah no I'm glad that's not a thing. I'm sorry for saying that.

But anyway, what a damn good game. I'm sad it didn't get more attention when it came out, it feels like such a passion project. I feel bad for only finding out it exists recently. I'll try my best with telling all my friends to play it too though. Cause like oh man. Good god. It made me laugh, it made me scared, and now it's made me cry, drawing and typing this post. It's a thinker. I love existential wonder in media, but this one is more like, existential indifference or something. but it doesn't feel cynical at all, i don't know. I like it a lot. Putting it right up there with my favorites.

also actually nevermind fuck all that noise good ending where the morning never comes and they just wander the woods forever together yippee wahoo!! who needs themes and messages and meanings !!!! when The Characters could be happy !!!!!!!

jtjfjfjdhdjskfskdkdsfdhdhsfjcjdhfhshsfhd everything is fine i am Fine definitely not Crying More why would you think that

[sosa2imagines]

I had my dance and now I'm where I belong. Part 5

----------------------------------------------------- Warnings- Angst for Bucky, Fluff for all (This part will mostly focus on Bucky facing the consequences) ----------------------------------------------------- Part 6 -----------------------------------------------------

Saying yes to go on a date with Steve was the best decision of your life! On your first date he took you to an Italian restaurant and was the perfect gentleman, on your way you had notice few girls drooling over him trying to get his attention but he kept looking ahead and at you, ignoring everyone else. Like only you existed on the planet. Steve made you feel better, feel worthy of love again like there was a light at the end of the dark tunnel.

On the other hand ever since Bucky thought about you his head has not been in the right place. Sharon did finally showed up that night in a disheveled state hair a mess, lipstick all over her mouth but Bucky was too tired to notice, but that didn't stop Sharon from being mad at him for the mess in the room ignoring his painful state she kept the lights on purposefully to annoy Bucky which resulted in him sleeping on the couch, you would never do this to him he thinks about you again.

But that was just the beginning, they would have little and minor arguments here and there like any other couple would but than they turn into more serious and loud arguments. It was only few months into the relationship when the arguments started getting intense that led to resolving their issues by having make up sex and things would go back to normal for awhile. 

Even when some random girl would flirt with him Sharon won't confront him unlike you, again he compared you and her. Sharon had a simple solution for everything 'sex'. It would be a huge lie if Bucky said he was not getting fed of it. Sharon was in the mood but Bucky gently denied her instead suggesting her to cuddle and talk, naturally she scoffed still determined she cupped his dick but that only made Bucky yell at her "Can't you for once do something else other than sex?" Sharon removed her hand only to hit Bucky with the pillow which again resulted in him sleeping on the couch for god knows how many times in his own room!

That made him think about his situation relationship with Sharon. She knew Bucky was dating you, yet neither of them pulled away from the kiss and one thing led to another and Bucky slept with her for the entire trip. He knew he shouldn’t have continued things further with Sharon after that mission, yet the sneaking around gave him an adrenaline feeling, he enjoyed it. Their sneaking and love affair continued, at one point Bucky did find himself beginning to fall for Sharon and he was also beginning to be even happier with her. 

But than Steve came back, of course he beat him up and Tony did to but both of them said the same thing Sharon will screw this, but how? He started to miss out the little things like hanging out with his friends, enjoying movie nights, playing games, cooking, then he also started missing you the time spent with you how it was not just about only sex, you guys would cuddle, talk for hours without getting bored, go for long walks and help him whenever he had nightmares. Sharon eventually did helped him in the beginning but later on she started to get annoyed she would tell him to suck it up be man enough, on those nights he missed you and Steve terribly, you both would help him in unique ways that made him sleep peacefully.

But now those are only memories and now he lost his friends that are family along with you now he is living with just friends who barely talk to him. Somewhere deep inside he was realizing his mistake he was no longer enjoying infact he was suffering but his ego and pride was bigger at the moment to make him accept the truth.

Few days later few important CIA agents had come to work along side Shield and Tony was more than happy to entertain them especially one particular person 'NICK FOWLER' no one knew he was with the other agents. When Sharon saw the agents she knew instantly helping them would do wonders to her career. So she was casually chatting, flirting, all this was being witness by Bucky who was fuming smoke coming from his ears. He drag Sharon away from them to a corner she was quick to yank her arm away "What the hell are you doing?" She yelled at him "What I'm doing? what are you doing flirting with them?" "That's rich coming from you" "What's that suppose to mean?" "As if you don't flirt with others" "So is this payback?" "Oh honey I don't do paybacks now suck it up you look so cute when jealous" she patted his cheek and left. Their bickering did not go unnoticed by Nat who was smirking.

But Bucky went into a guilt trip as soon as he heard those words 'you look so cute when jealous' that's what he used to say to you whenever you would talk to him about his behavior, in that moment Bucky realized how you must have felt. He never even said sorry to you. Just then he saw Sharon again not just flirting but getting way to close for comfort. The way they were glancing at each other, the way his hand was roaming on her something, no not something, everything felt wrong. "That's Nick Fowler" Tony cuts his train of thoughts "What?" Bucky asks in confusion "CIA agent Nick Fowler, rest of the agents will head back but he is going to stay for a day or two" Tony smiled. "Rogers hates him if he was here that man would have been dead." Tony adds more to Bucky's confusion. "Why?", "Hmm" Tony acts like he thinking smirking he shrugs "Ask Capsicle, a little friendly advice though, keep an eye on those two Cap was lucky not so lucky can't say the same about you" "Wait, what?" Before Bucky can ask anything Tony was gone.

Back at home after another awesome date- "You are quiet today" he asks playfully "I'm thinking" "Can I know what are you thinking about?" You nod looking at the ground blushing hard "I think I'MFALLINGINLOVEWITHYOU" in one breath you confessed what Steve was dying to hear. Steve literally choked on air you had to pat his back "Jesus I didn't know you would react this way, are you okay?" "No I mean yes what did you say? slowly please" You wide your eyes closing them taking a deep breath opening again you look into his eyes "I love you Steve" you tell him pressing your lips back to his. Steve made you feel safe, feel like he would never hurt you in anyway, especially in the way Bucky did. Unlike with Bucky, being with Steve felt secure. There was no doubt that he would be a loyal, loving man.

Ever since Nick Fowler had entered the Tower Sharon was spending more time with him. Bucky was losing his patience. She was hardly with him. Bucky even tried to lure her with promise of a mind blowing sex but she just pushed him away saying she is busy working. "Hey man how does it feel?" Sam asks enjoying the frustration of Bucky. "What do you want?" Bucky asks him clearly annoyed "Y/n felt same when you ignored her only difference is she was not cheating on you" Sam furrowed his brows trying to put some sense into Bucky's brain. But before Bucky could say anything the elevator door opened revealing Sharon and Nick giggling, random blabbering and holding hands. Sam whistled and left the trio alone.

"Where were you?" Bucky barks anger clearly visible, Nick just smirks he hugs Sharon and not so gently squeezes her waist giving Bucky a look and heads towards his room. "What was that?" "What was what Bucky what's gotten into you? We just went out for dinner", "For four hours?" "We lost track of time, aww are you angry? baby you look so cute when you are jealous" again those words something snaps in him he drags Sharon to their room pushes her against the wall he tears apart her shirt and before he can proceed he stops. "What are these?" he asks pointing his finger to the marks on her neck and collarbone. Sharon looks in the mirror and all the color drains out from her face. Bucky's mind flashed him the image of Sharon's disheveled face from many nights ago. "GET OUT!"

----------------------------------------------------- Part 6 ----------------------------------------------------- TAGLIST- @differenttyphoonwerewolf @nouk1998 ----------------------------------------------------- (Hey lovely people why do you think Steve hates Nick? Hope you all enjoy this part finally Bucky getting what he deserves, I know I have dragged it long but I really don't won't to make the parts way too long to read. As always feedback is appreciated lots of love to you all 😁❤️. Sneak peek- Since I dragged it too long, Sharon will be kicked out tomorrow but she will ask someone else to help her and someone else of that some else will slap her 😂) -----------------------------------------------------

[lilacxquartz]

CHASING HUMANITY • kenjaku x fem!reader

ao3 • masterlist • << previous chapter • next chapter >> • chapter directory

summary: as you slept, kenjaku has a series of flashbacks back to when it all started, leading to problems in the waking world.

trigger warnings: referenced violence/past abuse & mentioned dissociation.

Chapter 8. Origins

You slept oddly peacefully given your grave predicament and although Kenjaku had already made up his mind about not sending you into an early grave, he still enjoyed the reign of power that he held over your very existence.

He lay there in bed with you, with his fingertips dancing around your pulse point, finding the feeling to be nothing short of thrilling—if even exciting—however, now he had a slight predicament that robbed him of a good rest.

He couldn’t help but feel like this whole situation was doomed to be like all of those other times and that it would all end up in the same old rut. The bigger issue being if he did care or not. Surely, if his mind refused to give him a clear answer, then it did bother him more than he let on.

Although, eventually, he too slipped off into sleep, or something close to it. The environment around him felt so familiar, though, so perhaps it was a memory rather than a dream that he was experiencing.

Muted tones of cobalt blue and sterile white painted his surroundings in clinical hues. Cast just overhead, a blinding white fluorescent light basked him in an almost, blinding glow. This place wasn’t new. He knew where he was perfectly well. From the droning buzz of the machinery that whirred in the background to the monotonous blipping of the monitors. He was back at work—but something felt off about it—something wrong.

Kenjaku considered the possibility of this being a cruel joke of some kind. Maybe he had hallucinated quitting the mundane to begin with, and had never left this wretched building at all. Maybe he was coming down from finally diving off the deep end, the high at last grounding him back into reality from what was a very convincing fantasy?

His eyes wandered around the space again. It couldn’t have been real. He could just tell. He was lucid enough to be able to tell that he was experiencing a dream—be it actually a memory, a warped flashback—or whatever else, but that was as far as the control extended. Everything else was out of his steer and he couldn’t do much else other than to remain seated within his body in a dormant state, watching the dream pass by on autopilot as the passenger.

The world outside the windows to the building just barely existed either, somehow making the hospital feel all the more real. That’s how it felt back then too. How depressing. The windows even now, were still fogged up from the perpetually spitting rain just outside—the skies somehow always overcast. Fellow nurses barked out his name in clipped, impatient tones as patients clung to his hands like he was some sort of saviour. In this particular glimpse into his past, however, everyone was a shadow, with not a single face retained.

Kenjaku’s mind scrambled as fleeting fragments of his old life passed him by on a whim, unable to determine why he was revisiting this part of his life. The experience was tilting, making him feel nauseous at the thought. He was everywhere all at once while not actually present anywhere at all—both carrying the burden and yet being free of it all the same. Monotony was the gist of it; day in and day out for years—a meaningless blur.

At some point, however, the dream forced him to pause, the hallway he found himself walking down growing longer with each passing footstep. The walls and windows smudged into something unrecognisable. The smell of copper lingered in the air and his hands felt warm, sticky, and laden with something he couldn’t quite force his gaze to follow while having a good idea as the walls smeared red.

A voice called out his name not too long after, forcing him to go stop and backtrack a few steps, the room at the end of the hallway not seeming so important anymore. It was soft and hesitant and as he responded to it, he let slip of your name without even realising it.

As a result, he couldn’t help but follow the voice, finding himself be drawn back into the long winding corridors where he had once lost his mind and as he did so, the voice became clearer to the point where it was almost jarring—but also, not yours. No, he recognised it perfectly well in fact.

A ghost from his memory.

The person that this whole thing started with.

When he entered the ward, it was exactly as he remembered it. A small, cluttered room with barely any privacy, save some stained curtains. His role in the hospital was supportive mostly, usually in the confines of whatever doctor he found himself shadowing, but one case in particular unlocked an almost morbid curiosity for him. He remembered this person to be some sort of unusual anomaly that gnawed in the back of his mind.

She kept getting pregnant—trying for a child—but the kids always came out wrong, dead or with a serious issue, lost within days. It kept happening and she always waited out past the point of an abortion, creating a problem each time. This was her third try and at first he was almost sympathetic, wondering if this was some thinly veiled attempt as a cry for help, given that the self-inflicted sabotage was repeating, but then his empathy was quickly lost, giving way into an almost clinical fascination instead.

He ended up spending time with this woman when the hospitals were starkly quiet, rendering her a specimen of some kind to study rather than to fix—awakening something within him that had been dormant for far too long.

The world around him back then slowed in her presence, with everything else fading into the distance. She was for a while, the sharpest focus of his study, but it was always boring whenever she got better. So he started to tamper with her progress with that same detached reverence that one might have had for a studied specimen, marveling at the sight as her body continued to hold itself against the odds.

Soon enough, he began to wonder just how much a person could be pushed before they were to break? How much one’s body could endure before they revealed some sort of truth about themselves that not even they knew?

He found it within that patient, at least, right at the cusp of death. The baby lived by some miracle, although it carried on a rare blood disorder, adorned with an unforgiving birthmark right across its face. Just as her eyes locked on the newborn, an answer formed in her eyes, her life slipping away right before he could hear it.

Kenjaku remembered the feeling of disappointment back then but not out of sadness or grief, but because she had left him hanging. How selfish, he thought back to himself again, leaving him in the dark like that.

He then blinked, finding himself somewhere else. A cold air hit his body, plunging him somewhere outside instead, far away from the hospital. The sterile corridors and ambient drone were gone and his surroundings faded away into something else entirely. He paused, recognising this as reality—but he wasn’t in bed with you—instead stood outside in the pouring rain, with the downpour seeping through his robes.

Such a change of scenery made him pause and he stood still as he tried to recollect himself, his heart beating fast. The sky above was still dark, the moon was just barely lacing through the passing clouds and the asphalt where he stood flooded slightly, leaving him more drenched than he would have liked.

Somehow, he didn’t hear the rain though—everything was silent, everything was still—and then finally, it wasn’t.

Without warning, a flash of red burst into his line of sight, flaring across his vision in a vivid explosion. His heart stuttered, nearly stilling in his chest. His hands twitched at his sides as he tried to ground himself back into reality and just as it started to all fade—the redness bled through again, pulsing in and out of the darkness in tune with his racing pulse. Each flash was sharper than the last, cutting into his vision like honed steel. He closed his eyes to block it all out, only for the colour to be burnt into his mind like a stain, leaving behind scarring sanguine in the dark.

When his eyes fluttered open again, the circumstances had changed once more. Everything was clearer that time—everything was real. He was awake this time, he could feel it. His eyes drifted down at last, fixing on his hands. They were red, just barely washed off from what they were doused within. It was without question blood—thick and congealed—clinging to his skin like molten carmine, digging beneath his fingernails and settling between the creased lines of his palms.

It was then that he realised that he was holding onto something.

A piece of torn fabric, maybe belonging to ripped clothing. At first, all he did was swallow hard, trying to process what he was seeing, making out specks of red strands reflected in the warm glow of the streetlights above, his mind racing back to you as a result, wondering what must have happened. Such a slip of the grasp on his reality made him question if he did something potentially irreversible—leading him to wonder if letting you get so close to him was a mistake on his part—if it was never meant to be at all.

Kenjaku blinked, his mind repeating the same question.

Where were you, exactly?

He found himself calling out your name into the empty streets, his voice coming out dry and hoarse. The surroundings churned once more, the rain blurring into marred strobes as red clouded his vision again. The rain continued to fall sharp against his skin as the world grew muted against his will; fleeting glimpses of shadows drifting in and out of his line of sight. It was disorienting to the point where he couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t at that point.

Kenjaku, trying to ground himself, stumbled forward as he tried to walk, finding his hands palming against what felt like brick walls even if he did appear to be back in the hospital once again.

Think, think, think—he demanded of himself, with not a single answer coming to mind.

He tried to walk back—to push through this whole mess—the area at least now seeming faintly familiar even if he was still fairly out of it. He couldn’t have gone too far, surely, and yet as he continued forward, the flashbacks started to happen again, assaulting his mind with conflicting imagery.

In a hasty flurry, a rush of faces flickered in his mind like a flip book of everyone he once made suffer, their names either long forgotten or a mere faint recollection. He blinked rapidly, remembering everyone else that it all started with. The terminal cases that nobody expected to recover; abused until they were eternally silenced by his own hands. Kenjaku remembered the fading life in their eyes; always the same look of an answer trapped in their gaze and yet never a clear admission as to what. Such a look haunted him, making him grow crazed—into a man obsessed. He had to dig slower, to push beyond the moral boundaries of what was right and what could extract answers—not quite caring how far he had to go, as long as he found out what he wanted.

(Of what made people truly human.)

He remembered certain people in fragments. Such as the elderly man who was close to being a corpse already, his body locked in a vegetative state. Kenjaku would linger for hours in the ward, running secretive tests that served no purpose other than to satisfy his curiosity, pushing past the limits of what such a husk of a body could endure. He logged every little reaction and every subtle twitch as he searched for signs of an answer that he didn’t even understand.

Comatose patients were the easiest to get away with when practicing such depravity, at least back in the earlier days. The face of a woman crept into his confronted memory; an unfortunate case of a comatose state as the consequence of drunk driving. She was a quiet case, so for a hot moment, nobody noticed all of those injection sites nor the incisions made in her skin, and due to her subdued state—it wasn’t as though she could feel all of those things either. He experimented in all sorts of ways, but just like before, the silence quickly grew boring.

It was after that point that he understood that he had to go even deeper. The sick and the quiet victims with their inability to fight back nor intervene were easy targets, but they were limited by their frail states and already broken bodies. No, Kenjaku found himself growing greedy, wanting more—needing much more, even if it meant that he would lose himself in order to get the results he wanted.

The memory then shifted, leading him somewhere stable again, but he was still dreaming—he could tell that much. The side rooms to the hospital corridor he was in before were all gone, forcing him to walk towards the end of the hallway. Albeit tentatively, he pushed inside, recognising the room as the office that belonged to his old boss. A small dim light just barely illuminated the space and a warm liquid gushed to trickle past his feet, hitting his senses with something metallic and suffocating. The smell was different from his memory, however—attacking his nostrils with the smell of phantom rot.

He blinked towards the sight of his former boss slumped in his desk chair, the body barely held together, the flesh parting from the bone. Kenjaku remembered it all faintly at this point, but there was one memory that stuck with him the most. The sickening crack of the man’s skull when he had finally succeeded in cracking it open—remembering just how calm he was when he gave into violence—how it all felt so right.

The memory, like with the strange rift between his dreams and reality, however, went blank when remembering a certain point. There was a witness to all of this. A janitor. Perhaps that was his first encounter when it came to losing himself. He still hadn’t the faintest clue what happened after, the details lost to his mind. All that he remembered was that one minute he was cleaning away blood-soaked splintered fragments of wood and the next, he was in the maintenance uniform, staring at himself in the mirror like he was somebody he didn’t quite recognise, yet accepting the stolen name as if it was his own.

Then, at last, he returned to the living, present world once more. Kenjaku still felt a touch out of place from the experience that was just inflicted upon him, but this time he was sure that he could handle his reality once more. He walked back in his suddenly acquired clarity, finding the studio apartment again without an issue, albeit feeling a lot worse than before. Now that he was out of such a strange state, he felt cold, the night chilling him from the bone. His clothing was now soaked and heavy, leaving him longing for a shower to wash the sensation away.

His hands still held onto the fabric tightly woven between his fingers. For a second, he was reminded of you again, causing him to tighten his grip around it as he fought back a feeling he still didn’t understand at all.

As he entered back inside, he paused in his footsteps, seeing you fast asleep in bed as the light from the building’s stairwell spilled partially inside. Your chest rose with each passing breath and your face looked at peace, with not a single part of you harmed at all.

Kenjaku stepped closer, his eyes fixing on your sleeping form.

The sight of you in bed, tangled between the bedsheets filled him with more tension than ever before. It wasn’t that he was disappointed in seeing you seeming, very much relieved that you were alive, but something in him churned—contorting into something else entirely. He stood, locked in place in the doorway, the rain dripping from his clothes and settling onto the floor, simply just staring at you.

Whose blood was that then?

He had no idea. The fact that there were gaps in his memory that couldn’t be recalled at all made all the matters worse. He tried for now to shake it off, hopping straight into the shower instead. Questions kept popping up, like who was—where was the original person and better yet, where did he leave them?

Kenjaku clenched his jaw as the hot water washed over him, the rising steam only barely calming his nerves. If this had happened while he wasn’t in control—if he did this without his own retained knowledge, then there was a chance that he executed the scene sloppily, potentially leaving behind something that he shouldn’t have.

He let out a cool breath as he left the shower, drying himself completely before getting back into bed with you—pulling you tight up against his chest as if to convince himself that you were in fact real, that he didn’t do something that he, for once, didn’t want to do.

The very thought made him react in an almost nauseous state and he almost didn’t want to go to sleep again just in case he would do something that he missed out on again. This—you were his biggest curiosity yet, so he wouldn’t take such an opportunity to learn away so soon.

(…Would he?)

~~~

The apartment was quiet when you next stirred, with the sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains. You shifted restlessly through the blanket, tearing awake as if from a nightmare—although you couldn’t recall it upon waking up. Your fingertips brushed across his body as you stretched and yawned, trying to shake off the exhaustion from your body entirely.

Kenjaku was already awake, his face adorned with deep-set eye bags that bruised over his complexion. You didn’t question it though. He remained perched on the edge of the small bed, watching you with such an unwavering intensity that made your heart flutter, but not in a warm way. If you were being honest, he still unsettled you, but now you had the knowledge that you did the same thing to him.

So perhaps that’s all it was. You let out a sharp breath of air at the thought, laughing to yourself.

“You’re in a better mood,” he observed, his tone softer but his gaze still tightly fixed.

You sat up slowly, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. Overall, there was something different about you that you couldn’t quite place. A quiet confidence swept through your body that hadn’t been otherwise present before, stripping away the cautious demeanour that you had let on prior. It was as if whatever invisible wall you had encased yourself within was finally beginning to crumble, your guard, despite last night’s events and its follow up, letting itself down at long, long last.

“Yeah,” you yawned out, slipping on your clothes that you had otherwise discarded on the floor. “I guess… I guess I am.”

Kenjaku took note of this shift, deciding to accept it as it was. He was in favour of you adopting a more consistent, maybe stable personality. Perhaps last night, whether it was too early or if it was wrong to happen, dissolved away some sort of barrier between the two of you, leaving nothing hidden.

“I’ll be taking you with me today, like we discussed,” he disclosed a moment later, moving to get dressed himself.

You watched as he fussed with the robes, wondering if the entire get-up was as worth it as he let on. “Oh yeah, I remember. Something about meeting with the acquaintances in the city.”

“That’s right,” he replied, “just one thing though—remember to call me Geto. Don’t slip up and use the name I gave you.”

Without meaning to, you snorted at the thought. “These guys take orders from a monk?” you asked, wondering just what sort of strange identity he kept up with these people. You knew that he was moonlighting a certain identity under wraps, but you thought that he would have been transparent with the people he potentially worked with.

Kenjaku scoffed, although his expression turned amused. “It is what it is. I found them after. They know what I do to an extent, but they don’t need to know the full story. Especially since I’m going to fuck them over in the long run.”

“Aww, and you’re telling me that?” you asked, tilting your head curiously to the side as he told you.

“I’m telling you so that you won’t get too chummy with them,” he corrected you.

“I won’t,” you replied, adopting a teasing tone a moment after, “but alright murder monk, I’ll call you Geto for today.”

Kenjaku blinked. “Murder monk? Really? Out of all the things you could call me—that’s what you choose to go with?”

“It’s fitting, so suck it up,” you shrugged, your lips curling a little bit, “you’ll take whatever I give you, right?”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t fight you on the matter, still feeling curious more so than resigned with wherever this whole thing went. Although, despite his displayed composure leaving nothing to doubt beneath the surface—he was still reeling from the night before. Whatever this was, was nice and for that reason, he couldn’t let something similar happen again, because what if he—nevermind.

He’ll fix it, one way or another. Or at least figure out what triggered it and then figure out where to go from that point on.

~~~

The meet-up happened at a quaint little cafe tucked away into some sleepy neighbourhood in the quieter end of Tokyo, somewhere within a residential district. It wasn’t that you minded such a place at all, but you where wondering what on earth this innocent cafe had done to become the host of something potentially awful.

You warily sat down next to him, seating yourself on the cushioned pastel-green chairs, your eyes drifting down to the whimsical checkered yellow tablecloth. Kenjaku nursed a plate of some sort of sponge cake and a hot milky latte, while the rest of the table too, watched on with slight annoyance—save for a man with steel-blue long hair who had ordered something similar.

As they ate in tense silence, you took your time to familiarise yourself with the three new people. The one who too, had ordered such an unsuspecting dessert in addition to Kenjaku was referred to as Mahito. Somehow, despite how attuned he seemed to be in comparison to Kenjaku, he bore a more chaotic undertone. Unsettling was definitely it, but just his overall appearance with messy scars decorating his body, with his messy hair—the overall vibe… was just different, that was all.

Next to him, sat a broad-shouldered figure who referred to himself as Jogo. He sat there with a grumpy expression, cradling a floral mug of plain black coffee. Just beneath the table, a crackling sound played just out of view—his other hand holding onto a small disposable lighter—his thumb fidgeting with the spark wheel, as if to soothe himself.

Finally, there was a woman. A quiet and composed figure who sat with long, dark brown hair packed into a tousled bun. Her form was broad and muscular just like her companions with her overall presence radiating an almost intimidating energy. Despite this, there was a certain calmness about her that made you drift towards her more than the others. This person was known as Hanami—and she sat herself in the middle, quietly waiting for the meeting to start.

“So, Geto…” Mahito began, finally finishing up his treat, playfully flicking over some residue icing towards Kenjaku. “You’re a bit later than usual, keeping us all waiting like that. Didn’t you say that punctuality was important?”

Kenjaku remained calm, adopting a light-hearted demeanour. The facade he let on was a carefully crafted one and there was not a single hint of hostility in the air, but something about the cold dead look that didn’t match the warmth in his expression, was a sure giveaway.

“Apologies,” he gently spoke, his voice soft, “I overslept. I wouldn’t miss this meeting for a second—it’s been a while, after all.”

“Yeah?” Jogo snorted, choosing not to address your presence. None of them did beyond the simple pleasantries, which comforted you a great deal. “This better be important,” he added.

“Patience Jogo,” Kenjaku smiled, maintaining his performance as someone calm and collected. “I have an important job for you all, actually.”

“Something fun?” Mahito piped up, his eyes beaming with glittering wonder.

“Not exactly,” he replied in a fixed tone as if to let the guy down gently. It was bizarre with how he spoke, seeming almost carefree. It was as if he was a guardian or a mentor of some kind, counselling some sort of troubled band of outcasts, rather than overseeing a couple of thugs. “I have something that needs monitoring before we can move forward with our main plans, but I can assure you all that it will be beneficial in accomplishing the goals that we all agreed upon,” he added, leaning forward, “although,” he let slip a scoff, “it’s a bit selfish, I’ll admit. I’m going to need you all to be my eyes and ears, and if you notice anything unusual, such as… police poking their noses where they usually wouldn’t, then I’ll trust you to report to me.”

“So, are we just sweeping up the potential crumbs you’re leaving behind, or what?” Jogo huffed.

Kenjaku smiled. “Something like that, but I do promise that it’s so that I can move forward with the plans we had all once discussed. After all, we wouldn’t want the police to be snooping around where we’re set to carry out our operations, now would we?”

The group collectively nodded, begrudgingly accepting their position. Hanami didn’t say a word and Jogo only grunted, but Mahito seemed restless even after accepting the role. He seemed to stir at the idea, not quite accepting something so plain. “Aww, come on. You called us out here to get us to be your watchdogs?”

“Actually Mahito,” Kenjaku considered, “there is something that I’d like for you to do,” he revealed, standing up and gesturing for the man to follow, “a word outside, if you please,” his request sounding velvet smooth.

You were left behind for the time being, focusing all that you could on the comforting figure who continued to regard you with a calm, albeit almost eerie smile. Unlike Kenjaku however, there seemed to be something genuinely warm about her that didn’t leave you unsettled in her company. Kenjaku on occasion flicked his sights back, taking note how you were talking to Hanami, not quite liking the view. He warned you to not be chummy with the group and yet there you were.

Focusing on the matters at hand however, Kenjaku schooled his voice into something a touch more serious and authoritative—although, to keep up Mahito’s compliance—he used both such a tone and words alike that made the mission seem like more than it was. How easily manipulated were those around him given a nudge in the right direction.

“I’m going to need your help with a delicate matter,” he revealed, catching Mahito’s attention right away, “something… risky, but only if you think you can handle it.”

Mahito’s eyes lit up, his lips melting into a lazy, almost arrogant grin. “I can do anything you can do.”

Bait and hook. Kenjaku broke his lips into a measured smile in return. “I thought about all of those ideas that we discussed,” he began, referring to a point in time where Mahito had many ideas for how people could be ‘studied’, “and I’ve been thinking, you know, that it’s your time to shine while I keep a low cover,” fully intending for him to get caught, buying some time if possible should such an outcome occur.

“Like…” Mahito trailed off, propping a finger to his lips in thought before tilting his head off to the side. “Like… a copycat, right?”

“Something like that,” Kenjaku nodded. “Think you can outshine me?”

“I can try!” Mahito practically bounced, already anticipating the idea.

“Good,” Kenjaku nodded, but then suddenly seemed serious as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a now coarsely dried piece of fabric from the night before, the old blood settled between the threads, “and also,” he brought his voice down to a low murmur, “see if you can find a match for this. I’d like to know who it belongs to, or if there’s a scene out there that matches a struggle that hasn’t been contained yet. Run some matches—do whatever—check the morgues, the dumpsters if need be. Do whatever and if you can’t find anything at all, then…” he trailed off, his eyes darkening slightly, “then… report back anyway.”

“Oh, what have you done then?” Mahito asked, failing to pick up on the suddenly hostile atmosphere, blissfully unaware and purely curious. It wasn’t his fault for being so inquisitive, so ever questioning the world around him. That’s why Mahito was technically the perfect person for this whole job in a sense, his unrelenting nature to figure out what made everything tick was a valuable trait above everything else.

Regrettably, Kenjaku stiffened, letting slip his composure for a fleeting second. “Let’s not ask too many questions,” he warned before smoothing out the jagged edges of his spiking temper, taking on a once again assured tone, “we don’t want to ruin the surprise, now do we?”

Mahito paused for a moment but kept quiet at the prospect of mystery. Despite this, he pouted slightly at the idea of being left in the dark, even if he didn’t let it before him outwardly. “Fine Geto, you’re sometimes just so cryptic, you know—it’s just no fun,” he playfully sulked, continuing to however accept his assigned task, “but alright, I’ll look into it. Can I…?”

He tilted his head slightly, wondering if Mahito was setting up his question to be what he thought it was going to be. “The person doesn’t have to be left alive if you find them,” he correctly guessed, “just as long as they’re found and disposed of correctly.”

“Gotcha!” Mahito accepted.

Kenjaku nodded to himself, turning his gaze back towards you once more, watching how you carried yourself in a quiet conversation with Hanami just opposite the table. Jogo remained indifferent to you, which he supposed was a good thing—that was as neutral as the arsonist could ever get. Knowing that he had to screw these people over at some point though, his mind flickered with the notion of something different from seeing you act on good terms with them both—it wasn’t quite jealousy, but it was enough to make him feel uneasy the longer he left you alone.

Pulling you away once the meeting concluded, he muttered out a terse warning, “I told you, don’t get too close—also, it’s time to go, so come.”

You shrugged it off, following him out of the cafe, parting your way with the three in a flash. Kenjaku walked at a brisk pace back toward the busier confines of the city. You kept up with him just fine as the time went on, although you were confused as to why he seemed so agitated, and, every so often, he’d set his eyes on you, making sure that you were keeping up with him before he eventually, at last, slowed down.

The vibrant hum of the returning city eventually enveloped him, his shoulders sagging slightly at the sight. Something internally was exhausting him—even if he did feel at ease with you, already understanding that much about the dynamic you both shared. He let out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes for just a short moment, but within just a beat, he was back in the hospital again. The stark image of the crimson-soaked office filled out his line of sight again, pushing him into the long and winding hallway that stretched impossibly narrow with him in it.

He froze, trying to will himself out of it. Not right now, not right now. Kenjaku tried to ground himself as the episode looped—his nails biting half-moon crescents that bled right into his palms. Soon enough with enough applied force, he was able to push the invasive images aside for now, driving himself into the present moment once more—but there was one little problem.

You weren’t there with him anymore.

He froze at the realisation, his eyes darting around almost manically as he scanned the streets around him. The crowd was endless, but he still couldn’t see you anywhere. Not even as much as a glimpse of you passed into his vision, causing his chest to tighten—a foreign sensation overwhelming his being and he hated every second of it.

“Where did you go?” he murmured to himself, his mind racing all over the place.

For the first time, in what felt like his entire existence, Kenjaku felt a hint of panic begin to form in his core. His pulse quickened as his eyes zigzagged restlessly, yet not once locking onto something that had even resembled you. His heartbeat felt heavy, despite how rapidly it was pounding and in the blurring haze of his lapsing clarity—the world around him felt as if it was slowing down.

At first, he tried to think rationally. Thinking maybe that you slipped off somewhere into a store nearby or that you went back to the studio, or even to the bathroom, but the longer he waited around, the emptier the world became. The images from the night before crept back into his mind—the undeniable sight of blood dripping from his hands. He never cared about those he killed, but something about yesterday left him feeling hesitant—perhaps even uneasy.

The gaps in his memory were starting to feel less like cracks and more like a fully split void that he couldn’t stop himself from falling into again and again—stuck in a brutal loop of his past meddling with the present.

What if… you had slipped away from him and escaped?

You wouldn’t do that to him—to yourself—you wanted this, right?

So, what if he then… what if he—no.

Unless he slipped up this time around—unless he had done something while he wasn’t aware of it, then maybe it was really fine. There was no blood on his hands this time around, but that much wasn’t comforting enough. There were many ways one could take a life that didn’t require a single drop to be spilled—he knew that much perfectly well.

Kenjaku stopped, forcing a calm breath to trickle out of his lungs. The world around him began to blur with nothing left clear, but then he heard something. He heard you. Suddenly, his hands were full of some sort of pink-colored drink in a tall plastic cup while you held onto something similar, immediately going for a sip.

Without even thinking about it, he pressed his lips against the straw in a daze, letting the strawberry taste hit his senses.

“So, do you like it?” you asked him, watching for his reaction.

He blinked, masking his response. “Oh yeah, this is good—how’d you know I’d like this?”

“You’re so funny,” you replied, nudging at him with more comfort than you had ever displayed before, “you asked me to get you one of these. Unless… I got the wrong one, somehow?”

Kenjaku joked his way out of it, letting the familiarity of the stable situation ease him back into being around you. Something about you was bringing out a side of him that he couldn’t l control and much to his concern, if it carried on down this road, then it was potentially going to be a problem for him.

Especially with everything else he had going on.

For his sake—and potentially yours—he needed to figure out why this was even happening at all.

And why it seemed to be caused specifically by you.

[idontexist65]

Ghosts and Pals

O.Dazai X GN!Reader

Chapter; 1/??

wordcount; 4,006

warnings; none aside from past character death.

a teaser for a fanfic I've written under the same name :D

You could see things others could not.

Shadowy figures lurked in back alleys, strange whispers followed you like a cloak, and most damning of all…

The inexplicable force that drew the recently dead to you.

It happened very rarely– usually, you found the recently deceased before they found you– but then again, there usually weren’t so many ghosts appearing all at once.

They all arrived very quickly, one after another. The first to arrive had yelled as they sunk to the floor, clutching their stomach. That woke you up very quickly from your nap, shooting upright in your bed.

You had just turned sixteen. You could hear your parents bustling around in the kitchen, preparing dinner. There was a translucent man curled up on your bedroom floor.

He couldn't have been older than twenty five. 

Before you could really process what was going on, you watched in muted confusion and fear as another man seemingly stumbled into existence and crashed down against your writing desk.

This continued for another few minutes– by the time you had fully woken up, there were five strange, possibly dead men in your room.

You… weren’t quite sure how to proceed here. Typically, you’d offer condolences and explain that they were dead, but again, normally there weren’t multiple spirits, and normally, they didn’t fucking appear in your room while you napped.

Hesitantly, you cleared your throat.

They weren’t making a lot of noise beforehand, but to see five heads snap towards you so suddenly definitely creeped you out.

Speaking slowly, as to not alert your parents, you introduce yourself and attempt to explain. “So, you’re all… dead. I guess, and- uh, I might be the only person who can see you?” Silence. “...Care to introduce yourselves?”

You receive no response for another few long, agonising moments. You shift in place, beginning to feel awkward about all this. Usually, the ghosts you encounter had been dead long enough to accept that they’re dead, or they died peacefully.

Eventually one of them clears their throat and straightens out, pushing his short blonde hair out of his eyes. He smiles at you, charismatic in a way that feels both practiced and genuine. He'd make a good model, you think.

“Ah, how rude of me! You may call me Lippmann. Now, would you mind elaborating on the whole ‘being dead’ part?” This is the hard part. It's so… difficult, explaining this strange new existence to people. Part of you feels bad, but you've gone through this song and dance so many times that you've become numb to the empathy ones supposed to feel discussing the dead.

“It's pretty simple, lippmann-san,” you start, turning and throwing your legs over the side of your bed to sit up properly. You fold your hands in your lap as you try to explain in simple turns that they are all, in fact, dead. “Something bad happened to you all– presumably all at once, considering you're here together.”

“I'm assuming from your reactions, you weren’t expecting to die, which leads me to believe it was an attack of sorts. Either way, you have passed away.” Tilting your head, you rest your chin in your hands as you explain, politely ignoring the looks of sudden realisation that spread amongst the group. “You don't have to stay here- most spirits are free to roam, most simply choose to attach themselves to a specific place.”

Lippmann sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as another one of the men steps forward, a small frown on his face. His hair was short as well, mostly white except for a few black stripes near his face. “I'm not sure we’d have any place to go.” he says, setting a hand on Lippman’s shoulder.

You consider prying– surely, they have someplace, someone, to hang around– but you don't. Instead, you look at the group, and once again ask for their names.

That night started the strangest years of your life. The young men– your friends, as Lippmann insisted a few months later– were mafiosos, members of a mafia youth group called the flags, and were assassinated. It was a lot to take in that night, but over the next two years, you grew to accept it.

Like Piano man (what a name) had said, they didn't really have anywhere to go. That's not to say they stuck around you 24/7, though. You were offered plenty of privacy, and every now and then one or two of the flags had departed to visit some mysterious friend. According to them, you’d like him. You think they’re exaggerating. (they're not, but you don't know that yet.)

All is well for the next two years.

Until you return home to children crying.

Sobbing would probably be the correct word. You had just gotten home from your new job– some creepy occult store, you loved it – when the sound of multiple kids crying reached you. 

For a few, blissful moments, you thought that it was one of your neighbours, or something on TV. But Albatross’ panicked face greeting you as he rushed out of your room the second you closed the door confirmed your fears.

This was not the first time you had to explain to a child that they had, unfortunately passed away. But from the mere sound of these kids crying, something tells you this wasn't a peaceful death.

Opening the door to your room revealed five kids– four boys, one girl– all huddled together. Your heart ached so fiercely you worried it was actually breaking.

Despite your best efforts, you weren't able to get any useful information out of them. They did stop crying, and had moved onto your bed, but none of them talked to you.

You didn't find out what happened until nearly two days later.

It was pretty late. The sun was setting, you were sneaking snacks into your room. The flags were up on the roof of the building with the kids in an attempt to help them open up. All was well.

Except for the man on your floor.

If this didn't happen so often you'd be concerned. Instead, you set your food down and gently kick the man. Your foot just goes through him, but the intent is there. “Hey, wake up!”

With a groan,the strange man with red hair sits up, staring at you with unfiltered confusion. A reasonable reaction, one you don't have time for. “Hi! Welcome to the afterlife, I’ll be your guide for as long as you decide to stay here. We've got mafia members and crying children, please don't scream.”

Nailed it.

Fortunately, your speech seems to get his attention. Before he can speak, you hear the sounds of rowdy children and rowdier adults stampeding through your parents apartment. “Speak of the devil. Hope you're mentally prepared, I'm not.”

Phasing through the door, the children emerge, actually smiling for once. Unfortunately, the smiles don't last long. Tears quickly begin to fall once they catch sight of the man beside you. For a long moment, you wonder if this man was responsible for the children’s unfortunate demise. Thankfully, that fear is quickly put to rest by the little girl wailing and throwing herself at the man– who is still on the floor.

“Tou-san!!” Like a trigger, the other children quickly follow. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, you step out to let that little “family reunion” play out in peace.

Later, you learn that man is Sakunosuke Oda, and to “Just call him Odasaku, please.” You learn that he is also a member of the mafia, and, after introducing him to the other ghosts that plague your existence, he apparently knew some kid the flags only referred to as “The Demon Prodigy”.

(You still don't know his name. It's become a game of keep away. The only thing you know about this infamous man is that he’s your age.)

Eventually, you move out of your parents apartment and into your own space. You continue working at the occult store, and eventually you begin to visit Odasaku’s grave on the weekend to relax and make sure it looks nice. You'd do the same for the Flags, but they're not sure where they’d be buried. (You're still not sure how Odasaku knew where his grave was…)

Despite all the weirdness in your life, you spend the next few years in relative peace!

You still see ghosts, and sometimes you come home to freshly dead spectres in your living room, but otherwise you live a completely normal life, with five terrible friends, five kids who you’ve come to think of as your siblings, and a man who exudes fater;y affection, even though he probably doesn't mean to.

Despite all that, this story doesn't officially begin until four years after you meet Odasaku.

It was a quiet night (morning?) , you were staying up far too late watching some old movies. 

Considering your life, you weren't particularly surprised at the young woman who suddenly appeared in front of you. She had long brown hair, kind eyes, and a lovely blue cardigan. She stared down at you– sprawled across your couch, still in your work clothes– and immediately apologised.

You explained her new situation and after hearing her story, set out to find her body and report it to the police. Flanked by your usual entourage– minus Odasaku and his children, it was late– you listened to Yamagiwa-san describe what had happened to her as you walked along the river.

It took you a few hours– it was nearly seven AM now, you left at five– but eventually you found her corpse floating in the river. Sighing, you dug into your pockets and pulled out your phone. Dialing the police, you muster up the concern as much as you can while talking to the operator. According to her, the police will be here within the next thirty minutes.

It takes forty minutes for the police to arrive, section off the crime scene, and retrieve the body from the river. In that time, you’ve found the killer. Yamagiwa had pointed him out shakily the second he arrived, and you tried not to appear to disturbed as another officer led you away for questioning.

You’ve barely answered three of his questions when you hear a commotion. Stepping away, you watch with amusement as the lead investigator tells a young man with dark hair that they’re not needed. Considering the spirits that haunt you, you can confidently say that's not true.

You didn't get a good look at the body, but what you did see seemed like a setup. It almost matched the port mafia’s M.O., but considering the glaring lack of a broken jaw alongside the bullet wounds… they'd definitely need the detective's help.

You watch in confusion as they reveal the body again– seriously, why show the detectives the body if they weren't going to help? You step closer to the body, standing beside the killer. “Sugimoto”, if his nametag was correct.

“Woah woah woah!” The lead Detective, Minoura as he introduced himself, called out once he saw you. “Can't you see this is a crime scene?”

You stared down at him before speaking very bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest. “...I know, I reported the body.” the fact that he didn't know you were a “witness” was a little disheartening. Some cop, hah?

“Y-You reported the body?” You turn your steely gaze over to a young boy with white hair. He fidgets anxiously under your gaze, and you soften slightly, nodding your head. You can’t verbally answer him before some cops start yelling about having “Caught something in the net!”

You trail behind the group as they rush over to a metal crane pulling something out of the water. You hear whispers of another possible victim, but you know that's not the truth. The feeling of rot that comes with the newly deceased has faded, and no spirit flies from the water with the man caught in the net.

He has Brown hair, bandages over his forearms and neck, and from the exasperated posture of the white haired detective, you assume he’s also a detective.

“Hello, Atsushi-kun!” He waves to the boy– Atsushi, supposedly– completely fine with being dragged out of the river like a corpse. “What a strange coincidence!” You can hear hushed whispers, both from the very alive cops and from your very dead friends, but you're more focused on the scene before you.

‘Atsushi’ doesn’t seem to pleased to see the man, slouching down further and tiredly muttering; “Another suicide attempt?” Another? This is a common occurrence? How odd, what a strange group of detectives…

Behind you, you hear Doc snicker and whisper to Lippmann “Somethings never change, hah?” which is odd, because they shouldn't know this detective? They were literally in the mafia?? unless this detective has a history stained ‘port-mafia black’ ...

How intriguing.

“What, committing suicide alone?” The brunette laughs, “That’s so passe, Atsushi-kun. I’ve come to realize–” He spins around, jostling the net that keeps him suspended. “–that if I am to die, I will die with a beautiful person!” While the man harps on and on about the wonders of a double suicide, you realize how… suspicious this entire scene is. If you didn’t know who the murderer was, the bandaged man would be suspect number one.

The man spins around once more, placing his hands on his hips as he proudly proclaims; “So, I'm currently on the lookout for a beautiful person who will die with me!” subconsciously, you step behind Detective Minoura. While you’re not sure you could be considered beautiful, you'd rather not be put in that awkward situation, especially during a crime scene.

(Behind you, you hear Iceman greet Odasaku. You also hear hushed conversations about the man in the net.)

Apparently, while you were dissociating, the man in bandages had gotten out of the net and was now kneeled before the body, once again whining on about double suicide. Jeez, this guy’s a walking cry for help, isn't he…?

“Who the hell is he?” questions Detective Minoura, unknowingly voicing your questions. You can't keep referring to the bandaged man as… ‘ the bandaged man ’ in your mind, after all.

“Our colleague at the Agency, Dazai-san, ” The dark haired detective– damnit, you need to learn his name too– answers, not batting an eye at “Dazai’s” antics. Is this a common occurrence? “That's just how he is.” Oh.

“But rest in peace milady, an extraordinarily great detective will avenge you! Right, Ranpo-san?” Dazai turns to look at the five of you, expression bright and a little cocky. You can pinpoint the exact moment he spots you, but “ Ranpo ” speaks up before he says anything.

“I have yet to get the job yet.” Ranpo replies, tilting his head. Dazai seems confused, dropping his arms and raising an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

Ranpo points to Detective Minoura with bland disinterest– as if the very idea of the man bores him to death. You step away from him, turning to keep a better eye on Sergeant Sugimoto. Knowing what you know makes you uneasy and hesitant to turn your back on the man, a fact you're sure is picked up by the actually competent detectives.

“We have no need for Private Investigators,” The gruff man practically snarls, huffing and closing his eyes as he proudly proclaims; “In fact, all of my subordinates are far superior to any private detective.” Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but chuckle.

All eyes turn to you immediately. Detective Minoura glares at you while you quickly stifle your amusement. “Eh? What's so funny, kid?” He sets a hand on his hip as he waits for your answer, leaving you in a difficult situation. How do you answer this without seeming incredibly suspicious?

…do you really care about seeming suspicious? If Ranpo-san is as great of a detective as he says he is, won't he know that you’re not the killer?

…

“It's quite simple, you see!” You start, bringing your hands up in front of you as you gesture to the body. “Looking at the body, what do you assume happened?” You ask, pointing in Atsushi and Sergeant Sugimoto’s direction.

Atsushi flounders while Sergeant Sugimoto thinks before confidently explaining away his crime. “Yamigawa-san was pursuing a political corruption case, and investigating the port mafia.” He starts, resting one hand on his chin as he spins his web of lies. “I believe the murderers M.O. is similar to the port mafia’s method of retribution-”

You cut him off with a raised hand, a smile spreading across your face. “Ah, but doesnt the mafia have a habit of breaking people’s jaw?” You tilt your head, looking to the detectives for “confirmation” . Barely waiting for a nod, you step closer to the body and properly examine it. One two the heart, two to the chest. “It seems to me like the murderer shot two more times in an attempt to cover their tracks… but of course, I'm just the only witness .”

You practically hiss that last bit at Detective Minoura, eyes narrowing as you step away. 

Detective Minoura is glaring at you, Atsushi and Sergeant Sugimoto are both staring at you with wide eyes, Dazai is watching you with intrigue, and Ranpo is–

…pulling out a pair of glasses?

Detective Minoura steps closer, eyebrows furrowed as he shoos you away from the body. “You better show some respect, I could–”

“...You know.”

“Huh?” Five heads turn towards Ranpo, who is looking at you . Slowly, he smiles, turning with a flair and beginning to pace. 

“You know who the murder is, don’t you?” Your eyes widen as he speaks. With the way he's talking, it seems like you’re the killer! Is he trying to get you arrested? 

Instead of panicking, you hesitantly nod. Your eyes flick towards Sergeant Sugimoto once more. Ranpo smiles and stops pacing, holding his glasses up. “Either way, My ability will reveal the killer easily!”

Thankfully, the attention is mostly off you now. Detective Minoura grunts, crossing his arms. “Since you speak so highly of it, let's see this ability of yours.”

Ranpo and Detective Minoura go back and forth for a bit, but you are not focused on their blabbering. You're focused on the ghost hanging over your shoulder, whispering the most shocking piece of information imaginable.

“That man,” Doc whispers, stretching his arm out towards Dazai. “Is The Demon Prodigy. Watch yourself…”

…Really? You were right? 

What the hell, why not–

With that out of the way, you try to both observe Dazai and ignore him staring. You’re brought out of your daze by the wind picking up and both Ranpo and Detective Minoura shutting up.

“Watch closely, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai starts, placing his hands in his pockets as he carefully watches the scene before you play out. “ This is the ability that keeps the agency going.” oh? How intriguing…

Dazai continues to monologue about Ranpo’s “ultra deduction”, but you’re too busy watching as Ranpo opens his eyes and scans the space quickly, wind flinging loose clothing and hair everywhere. Just as soon as it starts, it ends, with Ranpo smiling and calmly stating; “I see.”

“”I see” my ass,” Detective Minoura scoffs, and you're starting to get really pissed off by his attitude… “You’re trying to imply you know who the killer is?” …it's not that difficult to figure out…

“Of course.”

You watch with bated breath as Ranpo raises his hand, eyes obscured by shadow. You realize belatedly that you are standing next to Sergeant Sugimoto, and your heart drops as he points between the two of you. “The killer is you…”

“Sergeant Sugimoto.”

You quietly exhale, stepping away from the man as quickly as you can. Thank fuck, your heart was pounding– that could have gone so wrong–

You wind up standing next to Atsushi as Detective Minoura laughs in Ranpo’s face. “Sergeant Sugimoto is my subordinate, “Detective”, did you mean to say–”

“Sergeant Sugimoto is the one who killed her.” Ranpo repeats, as if he hadn’t heard the detective. Detective Minoura snaps, “Don't be stupid! It's impossible that the killer would be this close by in the first place!”

The smile falls from Ranpo’s face as he repeats for the third time; “It’s exactly because he’s the killer that he wants to stay close to the investigation,” Detective Minoura’s face falls and he glares at the other Detective. “Besides, didn’t I tell you?”

Ranpo turns to face the other man, expression bored. “I also know where the evidence lies!” He turns towards Sergeant Sugimoto, holding his hand out. “Lend me your gun, will you?”

There’s sweat dripping down Sergeant Sugimoto’s face as he flounders for excuses. Y-You’ve got to be kidding. The penalty for handing a government-issue firearm to a civilian is far worse than a pay cut.” It’s funny that’s the only concern he’s voicing.

“And here I was hoping you’d have a point,” Detective Minoura scoffs, shaking his head minutely. “Are you private investigators all talk?”

“If we examine that gun and come up empty, then sure, I'm just an idiot running my mouth.” Ranpo states plainly. Detective Minoura, eager to be proven right, cockily scoffs. “I've had enough of listening to you!”

He turns to Sergeant Sugimoto and glares at him. “Show him, Sugimoto!” Sergeant Sugimoto hesitates, for obvious reasons, and offers weak protests that Detective Minoura ignores. “He’s barked up this tree as far as he can go. If we prove him wrong, he’ll shut up and go home.”

“We can’t waste anymore time.” You roll your eyes. You can hear Yamagiwa sigh behind you. Perhaps Detective Minoura was always this stubborn? “Show him your gun.”

You keep a close eye trained on Sergeant Sugimoto. Something tells you this won’t end well…

“Hey, what's the matter, Sugimoto?” It’s not like he’s being accused of murder or anything… Ranpo speaks up. “Even in this city, it isn't easy for an amateur to acquire spare ammo…” Sergeant Sugimoto tenses up further. “Even harder if the firearm is a government issue.”

“Why aren’t you saying anything Sugimoto?!” Probably attempting to think his way out of this… You stop paying attention to what they say, focusing on Sergeant Sugimoto’s hand– the hand that is slowly reaching for his gun. This can't end well…

You watch in mute amusement as Sugimoto pulls his gun on the five of you– Just like you expected. What a surprise! Oh, wait, human instinct, right. You step back, just a few seconds later than the average person.

Dazai slides behind Atsushi and, with a dramatic stage-whisper, shoves poor Atsushi towards Sugimoto. Somehow, Atsushi manages to pin the ex-sergeant and knock the gun from his hands. How lucky.

A group of police officers step forward to surround Sugimoto. He begs to be let go, Ranpo explains what happens in detail, the day is saved! And you have been awake since eight AM yesterday, you are exhausted and you want to go home.

In fact, you’re about to make that trek home when a bandaged hand catches your wrist. You’re about to protest– you’ve already been questioned– but that doesn’t seem to be why Dazai stopped you.

He stares at you with steely determination. You hear someone stifle a chuckle. You raise an eyebrow. “...Yes? Can I help you?”

“Such a beautiful voice… Would you do me the honour… of committing a double suicide with me?” His entire face lights up as he asks the strange question. Honestly, you can see why someone would do such a thing.

But…

“If you had asked me earlier today, I may have said yes. As it is… I have to decline.” you pull your hand away gently, beginning to walk off again. You wave over your shoulder, ignoring the heartbroken look on the suicidal man’s face as you walk off. “Perhaps another time, hah?”

You don't bother looking back. You've got a year's worth of sleep to catch up on. Thank god you have today off…

tada!!! like this snippet? read the first chapter on AO3

Dividers by @sister-lucifer !!!

[tanadrin]

This is the Palestinian resistance. It’s not beautiful. It’s not inspiring. It’s desperate and futile and sad. Generation after generation of children, throwing themselves into the path of one of the most brutal military machines in human history, smashing their skulls against its steel hull, mangling their limbs in its treads, thousands of them, for seventy-five years, destroying themselves as they try to face down an engine that simply rolls on over the dying and the dead. These kids were brave, much braver than I’ll ever be. They rose to defend their honour. It’s noble. But stupid beyond belief. Later, Hedges talks to Lieutenant Ayman Ghanm, a Palestinian police officer who says he’s given up on trying to save these boys’ lives. ‘When we tell the boys not to go to the dunes,’ he says, ‘they taunt us as collaborators.’ I began by saying that this is a war without opposing sides. Israel is not actually trying to defeat the resistance; it has no political objectives, just violence. But the same goes for the resistance: they are not, in fact, doing anything to meaningfully resist. Think about what actually happens in Hedges’ story. The Israeli soldiers call through their loudspeakers for the Palestinians to come, come and be killed—and the Palestinians obediently show up. Their resistance is indistinguishable from following orders. The Israeli state wants a certain level of violence from the Palestinians, it actively courts it, and the resistance factions keep doing exactly as they’re told. They teach Palestinian children that the best thing they could do with their lives is lose them. This is not a very healthy attitude, but when you start up your bullshit about the glorious resistance you are part of that sickness. What would actual resistance look like? Maybe it would start with not handing over your life to the enemy. Not climbing up the dunes. In saying all this, I’m obviously breaking one of the biggest taboos on the left, which is that you must not presume to tell Palestinians how to go about their resistance. I might have spent time in Palestine, but I’m not Palestinian. I’m not subjected to the daily nightmare of occupation. Who am I to start preaching? My only reply is this: if the armed resistance factions were resisting sanely and effectively, this kind of taboo wouldn’t need to exist. If there were a better argument for their actions than don’t criticise the victims, you’d be making that one instead. But there isn’t, so you can’t. It’s not a coincidence that the exact same rhetoric is deployed by Israel and its apologists: yes, we’re committing hideous atrocities, but how dare you notice? Who are you to say anything to us? Whoever’s saying it, the fact remains that there is no military path to a free Palestine. This fact is inconvenient and unfair and doesn’t leave much room for the optimism of the will, but that doesn’t make it any less true, and if you think there’s an exemption from unfair truths that’s awarded to especially just causes then you are wrong. Israel has nuclear weapons: it will not be overthrown with small arms and explosives. I don’t think I have the right to condemn violent resistance altogether—but I can reject violent resistance that’s doomed to fail, that achieves nothing and produces nothing except violence for its own sake. Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad claim to be fighting for an Islamic republic, in which Jews will be free to live peacefully as long as they don’t dispute the sovereignty of Islam. The PFLP claims to be fighting a revolutionary people’s war for a liberated workers’ state. Their critics say that both are actually fighting for an unlimited genocide, the death of every single Jew in Israel. But what difference does it make? This is all make-believe! None of it matters, because none of it is ever actually going to happen! They’re not fighting for anything at all. They’re just fighting.

This is a good essay in general, but this point draws out something I think is important: the need to believe that, if there is a group of Bad Guys in a conflict, doing Bad Things, there must be an opposing group of Good Guys doing Good Things. But there's no law of the universe that says it must be so; mostly there's just the churn of senseless, sickening violence, to no useful or redemptive end.

[septembersung]

Homeschool rambling.

The 20,000 Leagues Miss 9 read was a cut down children’s adaptation. (I used to loathe abridged books, but I have since mellowed. Provided it is merely abridged and not dumbed down, they have a purpose.) She thought she couldn’t get through the original because she made the same mistake I did when first getting into grownup books - starting with the introduction. We were talking about Captain Nemo and I admitted I’ve never actually read this book. Though I may have seen the live action Disney once upon a time. So she brought me the book and now it’s a read aloud. Miss 6 is surprisingly into it.

I’m not sure how I feel about this because we have other unfinished books higher on the list. But I have even more conflict over another previous read aloud, which I started on a whim and didn’t vet correctly, and so may just allow to peacefully fade away into forgetfulness. It would have been one thing for the big two, but I didn’t want those unskippable elements at the end of it for the younger kids. With Jules Verne I’m much more confident in my ability to skip, paraphrase, or slide over anything objectionable (or incomprehensible) to littles.

We’re supposed to start school at the same time as now our houseguests are coming (though it’s iffy. I have a range of when they might arrive but not a concrete date. It’s not totally their fault because circumstances do exist, but it is a little bit, and I’m frustrated. Also, right when school starts?? But it is what it is. And I don’t go around advertising how impossible the last few months were so it’s not like they know how important it is for us to start strong this term and keep going.) I have just a few days to solve an awful lot of problems (housekeeping, scheduling, storage where there is no storage room) and I genuinely don’t think I can do it. I’m not vomiting or winter illness sick anymore but my stamina is shot and my mental health is nonexistent. We survived the holidays, barely, and now I’m out of excuses. But even with all the help my husband gives, we’re only just scraping by and the house is so gross. But he has a job, which is our sole income, and his schedule has many complications right now, there’s only so much I can ask of him. Everybody has to sleep sometime.

AND. We no longer have a functioning printer. Due to the stupidest accident in the world. It was the world’s most frustrating printer but it worked (basically) and now it doesn’t. It does still photocopy. But sometimes you just have to print.

I suppose what it comes down to is today I need to deep clean my kitchen and let the rest of school sort itself out another day. How, I don’t know, because there aren’t enough hours in the day, for doing or for planning, but I think this is my only option. Food (and a deep cleaned pantry) first.

If kitchen today, then maybe bedroom/storage problem tomorrow, and hallway/living room the day after. Each of these really needs at least two days. Then Sunday. Then a final day to do… everything else?? The list is pages long. And life has to continue around chores. This ignores the part where somehow the studio is junky again and I have a problem warp to remove and I have some very fast Christmas present weaving to accomplish. (Screaming.)

So far the vibe for 2025 is panic.

[dreamlandreader]

Feysand Parenting Headcanons

A/n: For day 3 of @officialfeysandweek2023 I wanted to post some parenting headcanons for the prompt ‘Family’, so here is a collection of headcanons with Rhysand, Feyre and lil’ baby Nyx.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

✨ Feyre and Rhysand love with their whole hearts and so you just know that Nyx is the most adored baby around.

✨ Being so absorbed in trying to save his mate during her pregnancy, Rhysand never had the chance to go through what most first time parents do, which is to have a pre-baby panic.

✨Once Feyre and Nyx are safe though and Madja and the Inner Circle have all gone home, Rhysand’s doubts start to creep in.

✨His main concern is that he is afraid to turn into his father. He dreads the idea of causing his son any feelings of inadequacy like his own father did to him.

✨He feels better however once he talks this through with his mate.

✨Feyre also had the same doubts about her own suitability as a mother, when her own was so neglectful. But they both make each other see how they are nothing like their parents and they are not doomed to make the same mistakes.

✨ Feyre and Rhysand LOVE being home with their baby. After everything they have gone through they enjoy just relaxing with with each other and their son in the peace of their own home.

✨This causes relentless teasing from Mor and Cassian who are convinced having a baby has aged the couple a thousand years.

✨Despite becoming homebodies they do still venture out with their son into Velaris for walks along the Sidra and dinners out with the Inner Circle.

✨Nyx is such a happy bouncy baby. He loves meeting new people and exploring the Velaris with his parents.

✨Baby carriers probably don’t exist in Prythian but you can’t convince me that Rhysand wouldn’t rock some sort of baby wrap made from the most lavish fabric so that he can carry his son and look stylish at the same time.

✨He would wear it ALL the time. Even in the house sometimes. But Feyre wouldn’t care at all because she loves seeing her boys cuddling together.

✨Rhys and Feyre would have so many playful fights trying to get Nyx to say Mama or Dada first.

✨A lot of these arguments ended with Feyre lovingly calling her mate a prick, which is why they should not have been so surprised when that was Nyx’s first word.

✨After this incident Feyre and Rhys insisted on instilling a swear jar policy for not only themselves, but entire inner circle.

✨This does not go down well with the rest of the Inner Circle, and is overflowing after the first hour thanks to Cassian who keeps forgetting to censor himself in front of the baby.

✨Nyx’s birthday gifts would be EXTRAVAGANT, because you just know Rhysand would not be able to control himself.

✨Nyx is obsessed with the horses they sometimes see on their walks and so Rhysand would not hear it when Feyre told him a one year old doesn’t need his own horse.

✨Another year Rhysand bought so many gifts it took them a full hour to open them all, and Feyre had to enforce a ten gift limit after that.

✨Rhysand’s heart can’t cope when he comes down from his office to find Nyx napping on Feyre in the living room whilst she also dozes peacefully.

✨Seeing his mate so at peace and makes him so unbelievably happy.

[onegianthotmess]

I’m imagining Amelia introducing Silver to her grandma, Peaches, as her boyfriend and Peaches freezing because Silver looks…familiar.

It takes a minute, but eventually it clicks and Peaches realizes Silver looks almost identical to the Knight of Dawn. The same knight who tried to kill her at some point.

The same knight who fatally injured and caused the death of Princess Meleanor. The death of the only one that just let her just exist in peace.

Peaches’s shock only grows when Lilia and Divian come into the room apologizing for being late and Silver introduces them as his adoptive parents.

The startled woman had to excuse herself with Divian and Divian explained how Silver was indeed the son of the Knight of Dawn and that Lilia had found him in the bramble covered remains of Meleanor’s castle. And Peaches couldn’t really believe much of what Divian was saying. Lilia, the famous General Lilia fucking Vanrouge, the one who claimed he’s kill all humans and hated their kind with a burning passion, took in and raised the abandoned son of the very human who killed one of his oldest friends and orphaned her children?

And that child was now dating her granddaughter?

Divian had to stop Peaches from going insane and possibly killing Silver at the moment the latter realized this-

And though it took a while, Peaches was eventually calmed enough for Divian to explain how many things and how times had changed in Twisted-Wonderland after she disappeared. Though there was some tension and prejudice, things between humans and fae had grown peaceful, Night Raven College was a school where all races, humans, fae, beastmen, and even merfolk could attend and learn magic peacefully, and their old friends had relaxed and changed over the years with no more war against humans to fight. Divian explained how Baul had calmed down and now had a daughter and half human grandchildren, Malleus and Mealodie had grown beautifully and seemed to be more and more like Meleanor with each passing day, Lilia and herself had calmed down and she’d been thinking about possibly having legitimate children with Lilia when the time was right, and how Amelia had helped so many people more than anyone could imagine.

When Divian was done, she’d asked Peaches if she’d give Silver a chance, mentioning how he was a good boy and such a sweet gentleman despite being a bit airheaded at times and having chronic drowsiness.

After thinking it through, Peaches did agree to give Silver a chance, but he’d only get one. And then the following scene played out:

“Oh, you’re back!” Lilia smiled as Divian and Peaches sat down, Peaches in an arm chair facing the couch Amelia and Silver sat on and Divian in Lilia’s lap. “I was starting to think you both snuck out and we’d never hear from you again! After all, you were quite good at sneaking out with Meleanor, Peaches.”

“Well you angrily yelling and chasing after us was hilarious,” Peaches explained with a smile. “You barely even caught us most times, too.”

“Because you two cheated, of course!” Lilia retorted playfully. “I’m glad that Amelia wasn’t raised to be a cheater like you. At least your son has some decency.”

“You’re only able to catch me because I’m only a quarter fae!” Amelia pouted. “And I’m not athletic, either.”

Silver yawned, waking up from his impromptu sleep spell at the sound of his girlfriend’s voice. “It’s impressive how you can’t run to save your life but can beat Sebek ten times in a sparring session and still be ready for more,” the sleepy boy murmured.

“Well, that’s actually fun,” Amelia replied.

“She is your granddaughter,” Divian said to Peaches, who grinned mischievously.

“You can’t blame me for having some fun with Baul, can you?” she asked coyly.

“If I remember correctly, you two once had a disagreement get so out of hand you whacked him over the head with your crossbow,” Lilia deadpanned, momentarily slipping back into his old habit of treating Peaches like a small child.

“How long was he knocked out for?” Amelia asked, nudging Silver who was about to doze off again.

Peaches hummed, “About a day or two. I was really riled up, so I swung at him as hard as I could at the time. If I did it now, he’d probably be out for a week.”

“Jesus Christ, Grandma,” Amelia murmured.

“What can I say? This old woman is tough,” Peaches smiled before she turned to look at Silver. “Now, I’d like to ask you some questions, young man.”

“Yes, Mrs. Yuu?” Silver asked, straightening up and giving the older woman his full attention.

“Are you determined to make my granddaughter as happy as you can?” Peaches asked, the whites of her eyes going black with ink as she continued to speak to the silver haired boy. “And are you prepared for the consequences you shall face if you are to ever break her heart outside of dying for her?”

“Yes, Mrs. Yuu, I am,” Silver replied without missing a beat and seemingly unfazed by the black that surrounded the older woman’s orange eyes. In fact, he almost seemed expecting of it. “For all Amelia has given me, the only thing I can offer in return is my eternal devotion and all of the love I can possibly give her until I breathe my last.”

“And you’re aware that if I hear of any sort of mistreatment that I’ll hunt you down and make sure to mount you head on a plaque so you can pay for those crimes?” Peaches asked. “Because adoptive son of General Vanrouge or not, you hold in your hand one of the two post precious things to me, and you shall pay with your life if you are to smash the treasure that is my granddaughter’s heart.”

“I’d run myself through in front of you and the rest of Amelia’s family if that happened, ma’am,” Silver answered. “When I make a vow to something I fully accept the punishment to come if I am to break it. I never plan to break the promise I’ve made, but I’d accept my fate if I ever were to break it.”

Peaches hummed as she stood up and walked over to Silver, looking down at him as her eyes faintly glowed oh so ominously.

“H-Hey, Grandma! Silver! We-We get it! Please stop staring at each other!” Amelia babbled out nervously, the tension in the air basically tearing her apart.

But Peaches continued to stare at Silver, who maintained complete eye contact, for a moment before her eyes returned to normal and she smiled brightly. “Oh, you are a good boy!” Peaches smiled as she swooped down and hugged Silver tightly. “I’m so happy Divi wasn’t lying to me about that! Such a well behaved and well mannered boy like you is perfect for my Amelia!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Yuu,” Silver murmured, seemingly used to sudden bursts of affection.

“Oh, please, just call me Grandma, honey,” Peaches beamed as she moved away and held Silver’s face in her hands. “After all, I’m sure a wedding isn’t too far away!”

“GRANDMA!”

Shiptober 2024 Masterlist

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