I’m not having full blown flashbacks or anything rn but I’m having some bad PTSD times and am feeling very. bad.
I think I will scry every perma in my lair with new genes and maybe do makeovers
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I'm not sure if what I wrote is what this post had in mind but… also I meant to do this as a rb but my toxic trait is writing things in drafts/private posts so I err uhhh look I can't keep fighting with Tumblr formatting ok
Mhin receiving an unusually specific compliment. ᵕ ω ᵕ
“You're so fascinating, Mhin. If you wrote a book, I would definitely read it. Even if you wrote the book about something really boring. Even if you wrote…a dictionary, full of words I already know the meanings to. I'd still read it, just because you wrote it. Just to feel like I got to walk beside you in the world for a little while."
Mhin looks over at you despite themself. Your voice is low, tone affectionate difficult to parse over the incessant noise permeating the Wet Wick. They find themselves staring at your lips, as if to read your words despite hearing you clearly.
“You're really the most interesting person I know... Which is saying a lot, in this city!” You laugh at yourself, bandaged fingers trailing around the rim of the glass placed in front of you at the bar. Your face is flushed, pupils dilated. The longer they look at you, brows furrowed as they try to make sense of your words, the less you seem able to look them in the eyes.
The liquid in your glass is clear.
Tequila? Vodka? Gin? A stomach wrenching combination of all three, possibly. Who knows what Leander was willing to put in front of you, if it makes you so…
Mhin huffs, mouth wrenching into a frown. They clasp a hand around the glass in front of you. "I think you've had enough." They must have gone (miraculously) nose-blind from the boozy scent of the Wet Wick because even as they slide the heavy tankard closer to themself, the pungent tang of alcohol is no more invasive than it was prior. They expected to be able to taste the fumes coming off of whatever concoction they just took from you.
"I'm--" You start to protest, but you find yourself cut off when Leander says something that causes the crowded bar to go wild, cheers erupting. One of the Bloodhounds jostles Mhin in their mirth, causing your confiscated drink to upend, contents sloshing over the surface of the bar and soaking the sleeve of Mhin's shirt.
It's water.
You were saying those things while sober.
Mhin's eyes find yours, no attention spared for the slurring Bloodhound beside them. You're looking at them affectionately, lips quirked.
"Would you be mad at me if I told you that you're too cute?" You ask, something far too warm, too inviting in your words.
Mhin is halfway across the bar in a heartbeat, burning red ears gone deaf to the sound of Leander's voice, calling out to them that they haven't picked their pay up yet. They'll get it tomorrow, they think, racing towards the respite of the fresh night air. Away from the urge to--
Mhin doesn't let themself turn to look back at you as they leave. Though they can't stop themself from wondering: if they did, would they see you staring back at them?
Damn Mhin just take the compliment. I made Mhin's about their brains instead of their looks etc. bc while I think mentioning wanting to kiss their beauty mark would fluster them I think this is the type of thing that would absolutely infect their brain. Have them thinking about those words over and over until it completely ruins their nightly Soulless hunting; they give up & just stargaze all night.
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well here’s the thing. durge arrives at gortash’s coronation and they know they should bring their companions with them because, well, he’s one of the guys controlling the nether brain, and all of this is a big deal and very confusing. but this coronation feels private. it feels like something they don’t want to share. it feels like something they can’t name (or won’t admit to themselves).
so they leave their companions outside. “i’ll be back in five minutes, if you hear fighting come running” type deal. great. they go into the coronation.
on the other side of the room, at the end of this red and gold aisle, is this man. he’s scruffy and well dressed and unmistakably enver gortash. then he notices them and he smiles. and suddenly all of these emotions come flooding back. fondness, and familiarity, and a terrifying swell of affection and rightness. like the feeling they get coming back to camp after a hard day, but so much more.
the room gets quiet. people are staring. durge walks down the aisle to enver gortash (and they can’t shake the feeling that this, more than the atrocities they’ve committed and their determination to be good despite it all, is their greatest sin yet).
he tells them about their plan. about how clever they were. about how terrible orin has been, and what the consequences will be if they can’t get the brain back under control. and he doesn’t say it out loud—won’t in front of so many others, or simply cannot bring himself to—but they can read him like no one else they’ve ever met, and it is clear in his voice and in every line on his face and each gesture of his hands that he has missed them.
but they’re back now. no more tolerating orin. no more revisions to plans made for two. no more lonely late nights. the two of them will unseat their gods and rule the world. together.
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near getting angry at mello hits so different imo because of how patient / understanding he is overall with mello,,, like. this is the most obvious statement in the world given the actual text [gestures vaguely toward all of near's Mello Apologism in canon] but it DOES get me. near is not a doormat in the slightest but he does allow mello a lot of grace, and it is extremely fun to consider & determine what near's breaking point / limit would be in any given universe.
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