#the question isn’t even why he would kill himself but rather why wouldn’t he

[dreadark]

> heaven

are you sure that’s where he’s going

"ivan would've beaten luka"

you sit here envading my time and space with your silly sentences in this god forsaken, ass gaping website and you think that count yaoi ivan faggatron, third of his name, WOULDN'T kill himself the second till was dead? that man would've bought an express ticket to heaven the very next second TRUST!

[hiraethwrote]

just wanna say im in love with your loner!megumi x popular!reader series. you write it so well and i can’t get enough. i wanted to drop in and ask if you’d ever consider doing a jealous!megumi, rather than reader 👀 im curious to see how you’d characterize that!

an aaah tysm bby, means so much to me that you enjoy it 🫶🏻🫶🏻 sorry it took me so long to get to this. i wanted to write a little drabble for it but have been so prioritised in this one fic. to answer your question, yes, ive been wanting to do jealous megumi for some time, and the next fic will include more of it. here’s a little snack in the meantime

loner megumi x popular reader masterlist

loner megumi is all too familiar with the feeling of jealousy. i mean you are you after all! you’ve had admirers at your feet long before he had the privilege of putting his arms around you. and that doesn’t stop just because you are in university — contrary to popular belief, people do not necessarily grow more mature with age.

also being in the biggest sorority on campus, you are closely affiliated with a lot of the obnoxious fraternities around. you do, under no circumstances, go unnoticed by an array of characters.

sadly, he is more than aware of the guys who surround you, trying to get your number or your socials. he knows the attempts some of these guys try to convince you to let them take you out — you always decline harshly.

but megumi is a reserved guy, and will rarely let his jealousy get the best of him. he would never succumb to any drastic or reckless actions.

he would, however, bother his small social circle senseless by his seemingly endless negativity.

“this is pointless anyway. i’m never going to need any of this shit, so why bother to study?”

that’s yuji’s cue to start looking around. when megumi suddenly decides to come with a somewhat aggressive comment out of the blue, there’s usually only one reason — he’s jealous.

sure enough. yuji spots you with a few of your classmates, one of them a particularly handsome guy looming behind you. you don’t pay him much attention, but he has a look in his eyes with clear intent.

“you know she doesn’t care, right?” yuji says, trying to defuse the ever growing agitation in megumi, whose if looks could kill, would be a man behind bars.

“neither do i.” king of denial.

“sure dude, you’re real casual,” yuji rolls his eyes.

eventually you join your boyfriend, just as chipper as they had observed you moments ago. megumi keeps a close eye on the guy, chewing the inside of his cheek when he sees him continuing to look at you.

for the rest of the day, he is almost unbearably clingy. when leaving campus, he will loosely intertwine his fingers with yours, and you best believe he will not let go until he absolutely have to.

megumi isn’t opposed to physical affection. when it’s you, he even loves it — he is just not very good at initiating it. especially not in public. so when you’re stood waiting for the train, and his body is gently pressed up against you, a soft hand resting on your hip, you get a sneaking suspicion something is off.

“you okay, baby?”

“hmm? yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” he answers casually, gaze directed on the opposite platform.

curiosity gets the best of you, following his gaze and landing on one of your classmates who is already looking in your direction. once you make eye contact with him, he throws you a wave and a smile.

as you return the wave, you feel megumi hug himself closer to you, pressing the side of his face against your temple — he has now exposed himself.

because megumi isn’t nearly as in control of his reactions as he thinks he is. his irritation for lingering gazes resting on you are very evident, but he just does not sound his frustrations.

as mentioned, he will never make a big deal out of it. but you know. neither to you mind the subtle possessiveness. it’s nice to see he has it in him — to let people know you’re his.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[writeyouin]

I love your writing so much! Honestly you need more credit. Could I get a request for a medic femme that died while saving another bot on a mission and their s/o (Rodimus, Rung or Whirl) had/is having a funeral service? Thank you so much and I hope you have an awesome day 💕💕

MTMTE / LL Bot X Reader Drabbles – Funeral

A/N – Hey, this was a long time coming, so I hope you’ve had many good days in the time you have waited for this.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

RUNG

Rung thought he knew what heartbreak was.

He has been around for a long, long Yet, he never felt old until now.

He has seen friends come and go. The deaths of so many people he knew, but he wasn’t close to any of them, or rather, not as close as he could have been.

He never lost an Amica Endurae, or worse… a Conjunx, until now.

So many of his therapy sessions revolved around him comforting other bots through the worst losses imaginable. He has seen this before, known what it looks like, and felt the related compassion, but to go through it himself? Nothing can compare to this feeling of emptiness.

You were a medic. You followed the rules. You really believed it when you said: “Do no harm.”

Rung had seen you do commendable things. You even had to be dragged from a DJD bot once because you refused to distinguish between any bot that needed medical care.

It was Ratchet who had dragged you away, knowing that you were wrong and that the bot wouldn’t be thankful for your help; he would have killed everyone around him as soon as you brought him back online.

You had cried for weeks after that, letting Rung comfort you over the loss of a prospective patient.

For you to die when you weren’t even fighting- For another bot to murder you while you were trying to resuscitate a fallen friend- It was unspeakable.

Rung removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, overcome by grief and tears.

He vented a few puffs of air through his systems and tried to compose himself, surprised when he felt a servo resting gently on his back.

He looked up to Drift, who nodded grimly at him, eyes alight with understanding.

Rung nodded back, replaced his glasses and stood up.

He would cry as soon as this was over, but first, he had to give a eulogy in your name as was his duty. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

RODIMUS

“You know kid, it’s okay to- Hell, to anything! Scream, cry, break something. Please!” Hound begs. He wishes that he wasn’t the one who had to tell Rodimus but he was there when you… When Rodimus’ Conjunx Endurae died.

Upon hearing it, Rodimus didn’t say anything. He sat down against the wall and looked to the floor. It’s like he hasn’t heard a word that Hound said, but Hound knows he did. Whether he’s processing it is another matter.

“Rodimus, I-”

“How did it happen?” Rodimus asks quietly, clutching at his knees hard enough to make dents.

Hound likes telling stories. He likes to tell bots what it’s like on Earth, about the best places he’s visited, hell, he even enjoys regaling the crew with his best fights, but this? The story of your death? He doesn’t want to recount it. It’s too painful for Rodimus to hear.

Instead, he shakes his head, “I don’t think-”

Rodimus shoots up, enraged and shouting, “HOW DID IT HAPPEN?! TELL ME. HOW DID-” His voice breaks as the coolant starts pouring from his optics, “How did (Y/N)- Why did it have to be (Y/N)? Why? WHY?”

Rodimus is being irrational. They both know it, but Rodimus is hurting too much to be reasonable, and Hound isn’t going to argue.

Hound hugs Rodimus, feeling awful for the young bot. He doesn’t exactly answer the full truth of what the DJD did to you for getting in the way of their mission, albeit accidentally since you didn’t know who the bot you were treating was, let alone that he was on the DJD’s list. Yet, without answering the full question, Hound gives a half-truth. “I couldn’t provide enough cover fire.”

That much was true, but Hound wasn’t the only bot with you. It had been Drift to call a tactical retreat, and by the time everyone had looked back, you weren’t with them. You had stayed with your patient, till the very end.

They went back for you, of course they did, but they needed backup and their communications with the Lost Light had gone down over a cycle prior.

When they found your body… Hound felt sick at the memory. Sufficed to say, there wasn’t much left to find.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hound says, and he repeats the words over and over as Rodimus clings to him. Rodimus is also stuck on his mantra. “It should have been me. (Y/N) was too good. It should have been me.”

By the time your funeral rolls around, Rodimus is a disgrace. He doesn’t attend the funeral. He hates such events. Instead, he sits alone in his room, crying. Some people come by to try and coax him out, but he ignores them all.

He can’t bear to be around anyone.

Now, after the funeral, he hates himself. All he keeps thinking is that he should have gone. He should have been there, and now it’s too late.

WHIRL

When Whirl is told about your death, there are bots on standby, waiting for the inevitable rampage.

Sure enough, it happens but at first, they leave him to it, seeing as Whirl is only destroying the furniture and given the circumstances, that’s reasonable.

Then, Whirl devolves into a shoot-the-messenger mindset, running at Rodimus with a knife he’d concealed in one of his subspaces.

Rodimus does little to defend himself. Frankly, he’s also in shock by your loss, and losing any crew member, especially one as sweet and kind as you takes a heavy toll on him.

But, that’s what the other crewmembers were for, and even though Rodimus never called for backup, they ran to defend him.

It takes Whirl a very long time to calm down, and he only does so because there’s nothing to destroy in the brig.

Whirl feels like shit. On the last day that he saw you alive, the two of you had been in an argument which he had started.

And even though he had been a complete aft, you still put your arm on his shoulder-plate to try and apologise, even though the argument hadn’t been your fault. Then Whirl shrugged you off and told you to join the slag heap.

He’d felt you sigh at that, but you somehow managed to put up with it. You told him you loved him, and to take care of himself, and- and that you’d be back soon.

Whirl can’t apologise for the things he said. Worse, he hadn’t even meant them.

The only reason he’d picked that stupid fight with you was because he was terrified of losing you.

That morning, you had brought up the subject of performing the Conjunx rites with him, and Whirl had this feeling of dread. Dread that you would be trapped with him, and by extension that he wasn’t good enough for you.

So, Whirl did what he always did. He fucked everything up and tried to push you away, even though he always wanted to be with him.

Then you had gone to work and- ARGH! Whirl didn’t want to think about how you died. You were gone and there was no bringing you back!

Still, that’s all Whirl can think about. He spends the next few cycles alone, stuck replaying the stupid argument in his head and wishing he was dead.

When Ultra Magnus has security cautiously let Whirl out, Whirl doesn’t bother to fight.

There’s no point.

Besides, he won’t do anything to jeopardise attending your funeral. It’s all he can do to make it up to you.

So, when the day of the funeral arrives, Whirl makes a speech, and for once, everybody listens to him. No hatred or derision, only sorrow.

Whirl speaks about your character, strength, and how in a perfect world, this wouldn’t have happened. He lists your greatest medical achievements, brings up your proudest moments, and shares some of his private memories of you.

Ultimately, Whirl gives the perfect eulogy. He had to. He owed you that much. It’s the only way he can think to apologise to you.

[thebookworm0001]

Spoilers for the end of veilguard and specifically how solas’s story is handled under the cut

And seriously I do mean the very end of the game and I’m gonna talk about stuff that happened before then too

You have been warned

I felt satisfied with the ending.

I was able to collect all the solas memories/regret murals and very much felt like the way the ending unlocked by that was handled well.

Solas has always been a man bound by his regrets. And this game spent a lot of time establishing is primary regret is Mythal. Yes, he cares deeply about helping people and wants that world restored, but it’s less to do with the elven people and more to do with him feeling like he’s made mistake after mistake.

He’s been living in a sunk-cost fallacy for millennia and cannot see a way out. He really, really doesn’t want to do this - he knows how many people he’ll hurt to do it, but can’t see another way because if he stops now he feels like it’ll be just another betrayal of mythal when he’s already betrayed and failed her so many times. She’s the reason any of this happened.

That’s why it has to be mythal telling him to stop. He wanted to stop for a romanced lavellan - his letter says that explicitly. But he regrets mythal’s death (and his resulting actions) so much he just. Can’t let it go. What does his life mean if he can’t fulfill the wishes of the goddess that called him to service, to a body? The friend he murdered, in the end, to make up for the first time she as killed.

He was a spirit of wisdom mythal corrupted - it’s another version of Cole and the Templar who killed the human Cole. That confrontation has to happen for him to move in any direction.

And the way he absolutely crumples when he sees her? Damn if that didn’t sell me on how deeply he cares for her, beyond the murals that show how ashamed he is of what he did with and for her.

He’s always needed someone to tell him there was another way, but nobody besides mythal could absolve him of the actions he took, because they aren’t her. It’s not a matter of the nature of their relationship, rather that he cannot untie himself from the way his spirit was warped by her and the actions he took in response to her.

Idk I know people will have very different feelings and opinions on how that went down, but it made sense to me.

And my solas-romanced lavellan acted exactly how I expected her to. Granted, Ellana is the kind of lavellan who would immediately forgive him and would, no questions asked, go with him on his journey to atone. I had a whole fic planned out where she did that exact thing - even if the details weren’t what happened here.

If you have a lavellan who isn’t as sad as mine and who wouldn’t join him, yeah this ending may not work for you. But I went from being pissed at him for trapping my rook and lying about killing varric to immediately being back on my ‘fuck you’re just a deeply sad and broken man please let yourself be happy’ lament when he talked about how he failed both the world and mythal in different moments.

It worked for me. I’m satisfied by how it was handled and think the ending makes sense for the read on Solas I’ve had for the last several years. He’s just a deeply sad man who thinks he has to make up for his failures - and the one person he’s failed more than anyone tells him it’s not on him. She’s the one person he could never get forgiveness from - and he got it. And that’s why it had to be her.

[der-schweizer]

Stiches

Jack Fenton loved to stitch, even if most people wouldn’t or couldn’t see someone of his size and energy sit down and do almost nothing for hours at a time. Stitching had always been a part of him. Yarn and needles were just something that had never let him down.

Be it knitting, embroilment, sewing, fixing holes. If there was a needle and threat involved it would attract him like a moth to a flame.

It might have also been the reason why he hadn’t shot Phantom in the back by now. Jack and Maddie had finally chased the ghost down, found where he hid himself and then split up to attack from two sides.

Jack, with his size, managed to reach up and climb the fire escape and then snuck in through a window, whilst Maddie went to the front.

He had tracked Phantom down rather easily, considering the Hunter Ghost had almost split him in two with his Machete all he had to do was follow the Ectoplasma on the floor to find him.

He was sure that his face was twitching at the utterly horrible stitching Phantom was doing. They were uneven, not properly spaced, far too close to the wound and didn’t even follow any kind of pattern. It was just a messy zig zag of thread that looked so fucked up it offendet him on a deep personal level, going far past his wish to hunt ghosts.

“What in the name of god are you doing?!” Jack almost shouted, startling Phantom so bad he tossed the needle away with a yelp. As if to prove his shitty work being shit, the stitches tore as Phantom turned around to look at Jack. This caused the left Shoulder to detach from him and fall on the table.

Jack was impressed at the damage Phantom had sustained. The cut went from his collarbone all the way down to just about where his navel would be. It bleed surprisingly little for a wound that would have killed a human and Phantom looked more annoyed than in pain at it.

They looked at each other for a moment before Phantom spoke. “Can we do a timeout until my arm isn’t on the table?”

Jack scoffed, walked over to him and then grabbed the thread sticking out of him. “Look at this! No pattern, wrong thread, wrong technique.” Phantom just looked utterly confused. “What?”

Jack grabbed a new needle, unhooked the Fenton Fishing Line, threaded it and quickly made a knot at the top so it wouldn’t slip out. “Hold this.” He just grabbed Phantom's shoulder and pushed it up, so that it was where it was supposed to be.

He then pulled the Jump suit/Costume/Clothing out of the way and began to stitch from the bottom up. “Has no one ever taught you how to sew?” The question came out harscher than he had wanted but he didnt care. “No. I died before anyone could.” Somehow that answer made something in him clench for a moment.

They remained in silence as Jack worked. Phantom spoke again as Jack reached his nipple, which had been split in two almost perfectly. “I'm surprised you are helping me, considering I'm just a bunch of malevolent Ecto.”

Jack grumbled, “I’m not helping you, I’m simply doing this because the way you are doing it is so bad I can’t stand it.”

Silence descended again, only briefly broken by Jack ordering Phantom to change his grip so he could stitch up his shoulder. It was only when Jack walked around to stitch up Phantoms back that he spoke again.

“I don't get it.” Jack paused for a moment, looking up from his work. “Why do you keep insisting that we are non-sentient but then say in the same breath that we meticulously plan our attacks. It's a pure contradiction.”

“It’s been proven by a number of sources, and widely accepted. Plus we have ample evidence of it.”

Phantom scoffed, “Yeah, from Prof. Jonsen. Who, might I add, invaded a poltergist’s home, provoked them and then complained about being thrown out like the quack he is.”

“What do you mean?” Jack stopped fully, brow furrowed at the faceslap Phantom had just given him.

“Oh, I just mean that Jonsen went into their haunt, repeatedly stated how they died in detail and then, after getting a book thrown in his face, went to the media and cried like a little girl.”

“And what's so bad about that?” The question slipped out more than anything, Jack was overly focused on the shoulder area, but the sheer tensing of Phantom forced him to stop.

He all but whispered, “It makes us relive it.” Jack’s brow furrowed and just as he was about to ask what he meant Phantom spoke again. “Think of your most traumatic experience and then don't stop it, the car that almost ran you over did run you over, the fire did burn you. The agony, the pain, the terror you felt in those last few moments of your life…only to have it all fall away at a full stop.” He remained still as a statue, showing his unnatural nature. Then he whispered so quietly that Jack almost thought he imagined it, “I don't know which is worse.”

Jack looked at Phantom, really looking for the first time and he didn’t see a ghost, but a small, scared kid, barely older than Danny. His mind generated images of Danny, laying in a pool of his own blood, choking on it, looking around for his parents, looking around for help and finding none. His hands clenched on their own.

Part of his mind told him that this was probably a tactic of the ghost to get him to feel empathy for it, but his heart asked him what he would do if Danny or Jazz would become ghosts, would he hunt them down too? Scream vile obscenities at them? Slap them on a table and crave them open, ignoring their pleading and begging?

Jack suddenly felt ill. He took a few steps back, trying to put some distance between himself and those thoughts only for his hand to be tugged back forward. He looked down and saw the green stained needle, still in his green stained glove, connecting him with a green stained thread to the ghost.

He pushed down the bile that rose, stepped forward and finished the last few inches that were left, tied a knot into the threading so it wouldn’t get undone and then staggered over to the waste bin. There he threw up his lunch. The images of Jazz and Danny dying not leaving his mind.

He felt a sudden cold wetness in his neck and reached up, he suddenly found himself with a wet towel in his hand. A look around told him that Phantom had left without another word.

Before anything else happened the door blew off its hinges and Maddie rushed in, guns going from one point to the next, only to stop when she saw Jack. After a moment she came over, “Are you alright Jack? Did you get that dastardly Ghost?”

Nausea rose again and he pulled the Bin once more closer.

[signanothername]

Hiiii! First, I just want to say I love your art so much, honestly, it's the best fanart of these characters I've seen!

But I have a question, because I was just looking at your art of Nightmare and Killer. And whenever you draw them together, they’re often really touchy with each other??.

I’m not sure how to phrase it right, but for example, Nightmare seems to touch Killer’s face a lot or wrap a tentacle around him. And Killer also sometimes just holds him or in that one piece of art, rests his head on Nightmare’s head. It just shocked me a little because I would think Nightmare doesn't like people touching him or vice versa.

Am I overthinking this or something? But yeah love you art bye!!

Hello!! Awww thank you smmm!!! <333333

And I’m glad you noticed >:))))

Cause you’re absolutely right, I draw them super touchy with each other

And I do that for different reasons depending on each of the two of them

Killer (especially in stage 2) tends to be a bit touchy and has zero regard for personal space, and that’s cause Stage 2 is usually completely disassociated from the world around him and from his own body, and with his inability to feel emotions there’s nothing to truly ground him and tell him that what’s happening around him is actually happening

So how does Killer deal with his inability to tell what’s real and happening in the present and what’s not? By either pain, or touching anything/anyone, he would touch whoever’s in his vicinity, regardless of who they are

Nightmare is literally his boss and master? Fuck it he needs to tell whether Nightmare’s really there or not, feeling Nightmare’s negative aura isn’t enough

That of course doesn’t mean Killer doesn’t have his own boundaries with touch, it differs from stage to stage, but regardless of which stage he’s in, and despite stage 2’s tendency to touch people, he still keeps his hands to himself most of the time actually

Nightmare on the other hand, is definitely the type of person who doesn’t want to be touched, in fact I mentioned before that Nightmare is autistic af and has an aversion to touch if he isn’t the one to initiate it, it makes his nonexistent skin crawl when he’s touched without permission, he’s fine with touching people if he was the one to do it, but if it’s vise versa and someone else touches him he’d probably be resisting the urge to kill them (he can be semi-fine if he knows it’s coming)

But the thing is with Nightmare is that he’s masking his autism like crazy, so whenever he’s touched by anyone he pretends it doesn’t bother him, there are times in which he tells whoever’s touching him to back off, but only if it reaches extremely uncomfortable levels for him, otherwise he’d just keep it to himself

The only one who Nightmare is ok with their touch most of the time, but he still prefers to at the very least know it’s coming is Dream

So whenever you see Killer touching Nightmare first, believe me when i say Nightmare is resisting the urge to kill him vhhchchvvh

But the thing is, Nightmare is definitely super touchy with Killer, as in, Nightmare initiates the touch most the time actually, why? Cause Nightmare’s a bitch and he uses touch as some sort of fucked up form of control cause he’s a possessive freak

You’d see him holding Killer’s face, having a tentacle around him, etc, as some sort of fucked up message not only to the people around him, but to Killer himself that he’s his little toy, his little perfect killing machine

Nightmare can be a bit dehumanizing towards Killer at times, not thinking of him as a person but rather a machine that’s supposed to do its job whenever he wanted, and he uses touch to condition Killer and sometimes even as a “reminder” of who’s in control in their fucked up relationship

Basically ignoring any boundaries Killer has and invading his space like Killer does, but instead of doing so out of necessity, he does it to send a very direct message that he can do whatever he wishes any time he pleases and Killer wouldn’t be able to stop it

That of course doesn’t mean he only does this fucked up shit with Killer, he also does it with Horror and Murder, just not to the same extent he does with Killer cause they aren’t as “interesting” to him as Killer is, Killer was always his favorite killing machine after all

(You have zero idea how thankful Horror and Murder are for not being as “interesting” chcchchhc)

[nynyhaha]

Neon Nostrade and the naivety of evil

Neon is hated on by both Chrollos and Kurapikas stans.And I never really liked her as well,tho I don’t think she deserves the hate.As a character,she’s actually brilliant!

She sure is naive.But she’s not evil.She actually shows a wish to help people.I wonder if she’s aware what kind of people she’s helping with her ability,but I doubt it.

As someone who loves finding bones in the wild and making necklaces from them,who is interested in the way human remains look,I have to remind myself not to be like neon.

Because to her,the scarlet eyes are just a fun accessory.A part of the yorknew arc I overlooked when first watching HxH was the way her whole essence affects Kurapika distructively.

Kurapika is breaking his moral compass as he allies himself with such a brutal organisation as the Nostrade family.Yet his job is rather harmless:protecting the Bosses teenage daughter.

Someone who is naive,spoiled and throws tantrums,but not someone who’s a bad person.I believe that Kurapika really wanted to protect her and keep her safe.

But she’s the customer. She is on the demand end,Chrollo does the supply,and Kurapikas family is the product

I don’t know why the troupe murdered the Kurta clan.But I know they sold their eyes because there were people willing to buy them.If not for people like her,the Kurta eyes wouldn’t even be on the black market.People who harvest human eyes and sell them are worthy of Kurapikas wrath,but people who buy those eyes and create the demand should be too.

Remember how Kurapika and Melody had to obtain body parts so they would be hired?Well,how do we know those body parts were ethically sourced?

What gives Neon the confidence,that the eyes aren’t from someone who was killed for them? But she doesn’t ask that question.

I doubt she knows how they were gathered,but she doesn’t know because she doesn’t even THINK about it.

That is sociopathic behaviour,but just like it’s normalised to eat meat in our society without thinking much where it comes from(I am myself guilty of that but I don’t feel guilt)in the world Neon grew up in,the history behind the desired treasure is not relevant.

This is also so interesting because out of Kurapika,Chrollo and Neon,Neon is the most innocent.

Kurapika is going down a dark path of working with the Mafia such as Neons father and actually killing someone.Chrollo is the reason for that.And who is on the other end of Kurapikas loss and Chrollo’s crimes?

A cute little girl.She hasn’t ever killed anybody.She’s valued by her father just for her ability.She wants some independence so she goes out and talks to Chrollo.

The phantom troupe turns out to be more human than Kurapika could’ve ever imagined.That results in him questioning his worldview where only the most evil psychopaths could do what the troupe did,but the troupe doesn’t consist of psychopaths.

And what about Neon?Shes not only a human with feelings,but she doesn’t even have bad intentions.She is not even a bad person.

Tserri is.And we would all expect someone like him to be on the demand end of the pipeline.

But there’s another type of person happy to have kurta eyes,someone who is looking at them with genuine,childlike wonder.

The phantom troupe teaches us that people can do unspeakable things while still having the ability to care about their friends,still having family like bonds with others.It’s possible to be a ruthless criminal who is selfless enough to sacrifice oneself for a loved one.

But Neon is the opposite of that.You can be a cheerful,delusional rich girl who doesn’t what to hurt anybody ,and yet be part of something as horrible as the body part market.

If the phantom troupe are monsters with feelings,Neon isn’t a monster at all.That’s what makes her even more terrifying.

Rather than ending up as Kurapikas or Chrollos,it seems that we are most likely to end up as a Neon.Because we are not required to kill to be affiliated with evil

[pvlvsdog]

Hello! I have a request. Can a sinner react to a rather dangerous but calm-natured reader? Like if a sinner gets into a fight and the reader just looks at them, they'll shut up right away. The reader might have a dead-looking look. The reader didn't mean to do that. The reader just had something bad happen to them in the past, which is why they have that face.

Meursault wouldn’t question you much as to why you’re so stoic. To be honest, he doesn’t need your reasons, he just gets it. I would even go as far as to say you quickly become his favourite coworker because you don’t waste your time on unnecessary expressions and inflections. You get your job done and get to the point, communicating with you isn’t a hassle. He can vibe with that, since he tries to do the same. You two aren’t exactly alike, if asked he would probably even provide a detailed list of clear differences. Which is about the most upfront he will be in signifying he is paying attention to you (without asking at least, if you ask, he might kind of admit it). You are jaded by life, your walls are too tall to scale and many had given up, instead resorting to sneaking nervous glances at you whenever you appear in their peripheral. But Meursault is only ever impressed by your abilities and never pushes you to be a completely different person. Though, if asked, he may sometimes advise you to try and let your protective layer of numbness lower, for the sake of your own mental wellbeing

No other way to say it but Sinclair idolises you. Not in a very obvious way. But he is drawn to the mysterious aura. Scared but aroused intrigued by your presence. You are everything he isn’t. People respect you, you seem to have your emotions under your control and you fight with a deadly determination. Not much is known about you and when you do speak, it always leaves him wondering about more. He had gotten smacked a solid few times when your ferocious but calculated fighting distracted him from killing off an enemy or two. That gap between you makes him a bit too scared to approach for some time, he shrinks into himself thinking of how many of his failures you witnessed. How many times you tore through bodies only for him to cry out for a home that will never be when he is once again killed off on the side? How many corpses you fed to the strange vehicle you all travel in while he had to wipe his own gore-induced vomit off his shoes? Of course, I don’t want to make him seek like a sad wallflower, he has his moments. But this is not about him being below you or anything, I just think you excel in those exact areas he feels insecure about. And he can get a bit too focused on that to see that you’re just one of a whole group of his very traumatised coworkers and there would be no harm in approaching you, since he wishes to know you better. I think he would get the courage to do it after his canto, trying to engage you in small talk. Now it’s up to you how you react to that, but if you encourage him (to the extent the walls you’ve built allow you to), you’ll have a loyal friend. And perhaps something even more intimate, but if you don’t make the first move, I don’t promise he’ll be quick with such confessions. I do however have to note that, as he grows more secure, you two are bound to butt heads.

Now, unlike Emil, Ryoshu doesn’t waste time to approach you. Your technique is immaculate and she tells you as much. But your emotionless exterior prompts her to say “you’re N.F.” (“No fun” as Sinclair helpfully explains). Despite her claim, it’s no secret she likes to mess with you a bit. It’s nothing grand, but her presence is definitely made known and she says her quips here and there, clearly curious about how you’ll respond. She likes working with you too, since you’re pretty dangerous towards your enemies. Despite her seemingly carelesless attitude toward you I think if you were to be the next person to have to revisit your past, she’d be one of the most attentive sinners

There’s one certain thing when you interact with Gregor. You make him nervous. He is a yapper and the word count only goes up when he’s nervous. But nobody can shut him up like you, every time you give him that famous cold stare of yours. To be fair, I think Rodya would love you for it, given you interrupted more than one of Greg’s badly executed improv “performances” (brought on by some danger he’s trying to deescalate). However, he can also recognise your mannerisms well. He knows that empty look, he knows that coldness in your tone. He’d seen it in a lot of soldiers back in the day and even more often with veterans he has encountered. So even if you do make him nervous, he’s usually the first one to give you some grace if your presence is making people uncomfortable. He understands well, that there are some untold stories that keep everyone up at night. He is not privy to yours, but the least he can do is show you the understanding he himself feels (at large) undeserving of

Rodya’s a bit less merciful when it comes to leaving you be. Her carefree persona often clashes with your gruff demeanour. She likes to point out and comment on the way you act. Your “creepy expression” or the way you never try to include yourself in the collective fun. It makes her all the more jealous to see that despite how much you don’t try to be liked, you still get praise for how deadly you are in fights. Others still admire your skill and precision and you don’t even have to try for it (or so she bitterly thinks, though she wouldn’t say such thing out loud). However, I think over time she would maybe grow a little used to your presence. She only pretends your death stares don’t scare her and she’s always up to throw a small quip your way. But as your canto approaches, I could see her being one of the first people that try to talk to you. Sure, part of it is that she wants to feel like she’s useful. You’re always so professional, brave and composed so there is a part of her that gets off on the fact that she’s the one helping you. Not the other way around. Because though you might be this great employee and fighter, she’s still the outlet you need

Outis is hard to read here, but I recon you could quickly become one of her favourite coworkers. You’re not as painfully literal as Meursault, but you still get your job done well and don’t waste your time on unnecessary sentiments and flailing around. However, as soon as your indifference extends to the manager, she’s the first one to tell you off. I like to joke about Outis being down bad for Dante but I see if more so as her ‘projecting’ (from the dialogue I’ve read). As in, she can totally imagine being in their shoes and she is very aware that your attitude can sometimes be the opposite of helpful. Other than that, I can see her praising you plenty. Sure, it’s a bit like being called a ‘pleasure to have in class’ by your teacher (ykwim) but at least she’s nice? Plus I can see her offering you a little understanding when you get your painful past exposed. As much as she can sympathise with Dante, she also gets that there are situations that are bound to make one build walls around themselves. It’s a survival tactic she’s far too familiar with

Similarly, Don is mostly unbothered by your presence and the way you act. She includes you all the same and the only thing that would deter her or upset her is if you’re overtly judgmental of her ideals. Not that she would hate you. Your fighting skills and ability to appear collected are a source of her amazement for sure. I would even go as far as saying she’s one of the few coworkers that threat you ‘normally’ (though none of them are normal, with all due respect)

I can see Yi Sang, after his canto, trying to make friends with you. He can see that you are as reserved as he once was. And though you remain devoid of emotion (at least on the surface) he will attempt to get to know you more. Even if you reject it, he will not judge you. Though he wishes he got to know you more, now that he has opened himself up to the idea of closeness

One could assume that Faust is like that too. But she is a bit more judgmental (as seen in her interactions with Heathcliff) and though her own calm demeanour rarely changes, she’s more prone to commenting on your specific behaviour. Especially given that you are more of a ‘brute’ in her eyes (speak little, threatening and one of the most brutal fighters), she might make a small quip here and there if you question her plans. I think if they go in the direction they seem to, she might become more open to human error and in turn, look down on you less

Heathcliff isn’t too fond of your terrifying gaze. I feel like he is one of the sinners that experiences it more often and it annoys him that you have such an effect on him and everyone around him. He doesn’t like feeling weak and vulnerable, understandably so, if you get to know about his past. He would be more eager to tell you off but he’s not daft, he has seen you fight. Even the knowledge that he will be brought back to life isn’t reassuring enough when faced with the possibility of dying such a brutal death. He is certain that in this regard you are worse than a vicious distortion. All that aside, he isn’t the one to turn a blind eye to injustice and pain. And since your past is bound to be revealed, in those more vulnerable moments he would be much more understanding. If a bit frustrated. He knows how it is to keep building walls around yourself and let all the awful thoughts fester inside. So while he understands just how much you’ve been keeping to yourself, he will not be gentle with his words. It’s not anger, just pure frustration to see another teammate close themselves off. He has proven multiple times that seeing others go through the same he did/does hits him tenfold (being frustrated that Ish is going after a goal that is destroying her vs the winter story where he almost gets killed because of his need for revenge*). So to see you close yourself off further and resign yourself to a life of cold indifference instead of letting your companions in will not be something that goes ignored by him

I don’t think Ishmael would have much against you on the daily basis. Though she thinks your methods are a bit much (in context of the killing), she sees you more as just another eccentric teammate. And she has plenty of those. If you say something very dark and edgy, there will be a very characteristic sigh heard nearby. I think if Heath’s bored and happens to not napping on the bus, he’d try to count every time she makes that noise. It’s that much of a routine occurrence. However, although she might not always vibe with you, your reliability does provide a certain level of comfort for her. Like, she might not understand you (which is a big if a given with everyone on the bus due to how little you share) but at least her intrusive thoughts of failure are a bit eased by knowing that there are people who are competent and will try to help things go over more smoothly than what Dante can provide

Speaking of Dante. They are… not the greatest at reading emotions and people. So your lack of emotion is a factor in how they perceive you. I kind of can see a scenario where things are going terribly for you but you shrug it off (just another miserable day of existace…) and they go like <oh, okay. I’m glad you’re doing fine>. AT BEST they might think to themselves that something seems off and wonder if something did bother you a bit. Oh and also I think they also are a bit scared of being on the receiving end of your terrifying look. They might not read people well, but they do notice some patters (Greg being silent = Greg being sad, Faust looking straight at them = bad) and they know they messed up when your eyes pierce their soul. Even if you didn’t exactly mean to do that. That do appreciate your combat skills though!

Though Hong Lu doesn’t speak a lot in group settings (usually at least, he will still make inquiries and comments if something intrigues him), he can peak you apart so easily it’s scary. This is like the opposite of Dante I think. Hong Lu sees your actions for what they are - results of something horrible. Doesn’t judge you or anything. But sometimes when you do act all though and scary, he will say something that just applies to you so well. Other sinners think he’s gone mad (they don’t know how accurate his “innocent” musing was) while you’re left to wonder if the bloke has some sort of magical foresight

Wasn’t sure if you wanted romantic or not so I just did like general headcanons on how I think sinners would react to a character like this. With a little sprinkle of romance here and there. Wasn’t sure how to get it right for a while, cause this is a specific character instead of a scenario and it all honestly depends on how they act towards a certain person (like, perhaps I did get it wrong in assuming they wouldn’t side with Heath when he was still arguing with people early on or they would actually love Greg’s improv) so it’s tricky to write. So it might not be what you wanted, I get that

[howlsofbloodhounds]

An interpretation and personal headcannon of mine is that Killer is programmed with two main Directives. Seeing how his soul is described as what remains of Sans and Chara fighting for control I take this as something like a command or guidance from the two.

On one side Chara directive is to simply do as they say. Sans is a simple plea, a wish to protect him and avenge him to not give up. It just Sans directive neither really took hold while in his timeline seeing how Sans was gone it only becomes a problem to others once he is taken from his timeline suddenly he is surrounded by so many sanses but how can he be sure that they are sans and not just named sans. Some are easier Horror is Sans, and Cross is Sans. Blue is weird he has many traits of Sans but also not Sans so he is put in the inconclusive pile while more research is being conducted. His real road block is Dust though he is just like Sans just with one major wrong and that is the fact that he killed Papyrus and Sans would never do that so he must not be Sans. His codes, his timeline everything insists that he is even if Dust says he is not. He digs deeper before finally coming to a conclusion that Dust used to be Sans but with corrupted codes he was changed so now he is Dust. Does that mean he cannot go back to being Sans he is unsure but at least he finally has an answer to his dilemma.

I don't see Killer ever accepting Dust as a Sans because that would mean that Sans could kill Papyrus which would put everything about himself and Sans in question. If Dust is Sans and Sans can kill Papyrus by choice does that mean that Killer is Sans and he just wanted to kill Papyrus the entire time? He doesn't know and so he'd rather believe Dust just isn't a Sans not anymore at least that he was changed similar to Killer into someone knew, something different.

~Musical Anon

To be fair anon, Cross isn’t really a classic Sans, he’s a swap like Sans. Add on the heart locket and the being obsessed with chocolate and the soul thing with a Chara, even more reasons Killer would be iffy with him. But he wouldn’t feel like a threat to Killer the way someone like Dust would—if Dust keeps viewing and insisting on his identity as Sans.

And if i recall correctly, Killer’s SOUL was described as a war between two souls; Sans’ soul, and the Determination SOUL—not directly Chara. Might’ve been changed once the Player’s involvement in Killer’s story was revealed.

And this interpretation is pretty interesting, especially since we do see Sans as among those “personalities” that guide Killer’s choices when he’s in Stage 1.

Although it’s to my understanding that Murder doesn’t really insist he’s not Sans? But that he is Sans. Not sure about that so Murder fans can correct me. I’ve seen many different views on this—Murder still views himself as Sans and doesn’t want anyone taking that from him, or Murder doesn’t feel he deserves the name of Sans, etc.

But out of all the MTT, Killer seems to be the one most convinced he is not Sans and is something entirely new, separate, different.

He seems to think he came into existence because an outer force willed it, created it. The whole “Killer Sans exists because of you” thing, and the “you’re the reason I’m like this” stuff. That he’s here to serve someone else’s whims and desires.

Large part in why I personally like to HC that in more canon adjacent Bad Sanses AUs that Killer is the one who renames Murder into Murder/Dust, and possibly Horror too, or at least it was his idea that he pitched to Nightmare when the two were “recruited.” Renamed them as if they were pets.

Probably to not only handle any confusion caused by having the same name as eachother (is the justification), but to make it easier on Killer (which is in Nightmares best interests too. Nightmare doesn’t want Killer changing, he doesn’t want Stage 1 around too much, because change means questioning means leaving Nightmare.

Nightmare doesn’t want Killer to think—in large part probably why Horror and Dust are around, because Killer cannot be allowed to be left alone with his thoughts. He’ll start questioning himself. This could potentially be justified in a way of that Nightmare doesn’t want Killer “hurting himself”—implying Killer cannot be trusted to stay alive or want to stay alive if he goes into Stage 1. (Citing their first meeting/kidnapping as evidence.)

Giving Killer responsibilities such as Horror and Dust prevents critical thinking and examination. He’ll be too focused on those two and performing his duties to think about himself.

Any time he’s not on a mission, most of his downtime could be spent with them, performing tasks around the castle, attending to Nightmare, or rare moments allowed in his room where he could have distractions like video games or a phone. Smoke screens and fog.)

So he doesn’t have to question himself too much, and examine his motives and actions (something often encouraged in cult like settings and conditioning causes thinking through the lens of the conditioning that bypasses conscious thought.

Killer (at least when in Stage 2) is not actually the most self reflective or critically thinking individual when it comes to himself—because he was trained to not be, and discouraged from it, and trying to directly ask him in Stage 1 would probably be what triggers him into Stage 2–a part thats too dissociated to fully attach to his actions and its consequences enough to question and examine. (Color would be excellent at making him question his beliefs, and in contrast to Nightmare, would fully encourage him to do so—with adequate support, because questioning too much too quick without support would likely be dangerous for Killer himself or those around him.)

He doesn’t know a lot of the reasons behind why he thinks the way he does or does the things he does—he just.. does it. Without thinking it through.

He doesn’t even actually fully know how killing makes him feel, or what he feels when he kills Papyrus. He notices it’s different from when he kills anyone else, but he doesn’t know why or how.

He doesn’t know why he hesitates and falters when faced with Papyrus, and reminders of Papyrus. When asked if he’s okay after coming out of Stage 4, his speech is disorganized and confused—unable to tell if he’s actually as fine as he says he is. (Ex: “I’m fine—“ “I don’t know—“ “I’m okay.” Am I?)

When asked what it’s like to be apart of the Bad Sanses, he says it’s fun while standing over a pile of monster dust, and yet the faint words under his red speech saying “sad” point otherwise.

And of course, that one question that pointed out that killing clearly doesn’t help him feel anything, so why does he keep doing it if he knows it’s pointless? Because he’s conditioned to.

Because he was made to do it so repetitively and unthinking without stop that it’s quite literally unthinking instinct now, not even something he consciously decides to do, and a part of him (Stage 4) fears what’ll happen if he doesn’t (the constraints of the Deal.) He was even going to instinctively stab Abyss in that one silly drawing if Color hadn’t been around to catch him before he could.

But of course, Killer does not know this. He is not consciously aware of this.

If directly confronted as to why and he bothers to try and give a reason (even if something as gross and disgusting and untrue as saying “because its fun,” as if parroting someone else’s words that he’s repeated many times), it’d be contradictory and won’t make sense when examined critically (you say you can’t feel anything and this doesn’t even seem to make you actually genuinely happy. do you even know what happiness is? When’s the last time you felt happiness? Can you even remember?)—and of course, he won’t—can’t—acknowledge what would happen if he attempted to refuse, either from Chara or from Nightmare. Attempting to refuse just triggers Stage 4, and he obeys anyhow.

We can see evidence that he wants to understand himself—experimenting on himself, curious in the souls and codes of others—but little bro cannot deprogram himself. Get that guy some therapy 🙏)

So in short, I agree that Killer would struggle to accept Murder as Sans (especially if Murder keeps insisting he is and his name is Sans)—and for his own emotional and mental and physical safety and stability, he’ll either attempt to rather violently avoid and detach from Murder—possibly seeing him as just a tool he has to take care of, or something following its own script separate from him and seeks to keep it that way (cue killer behaving like a threatened cornered animal if murder keeps trying to interact with him just like he did with swap, trying to maintain that distance and position of power between them (killer is the right hand, blah blah) or force Sans to give away anything that makes him him or connects him to Sans (the name, Papyrus’ scarf, probably mock or criticize any puns or jokes he finds the will and energy to try and make) and encourage him to be something different.

To “let Sans die” and be something stronger, or perhaps whatever sends the message that he doesn’t deserve to consider himself Sans. —the conflicting thoughts of “Am I Sans? I want to be Sans. I don’t deserve to be Sans” (st1) and “I am not Sans, I just have his face. If im not sans then what am I?” (st2) causing him behave how he was taught to maintain the beliefs he was taught.

He might frame it out to be for Sans’ benefit. Some may claim it’s only ever for himself. In actuality, it’s only ever for benefit of those who want him compliant.

[imweirdimjazzy]

Questions of Hell

Pairing: Alastor x GN!Reader

Description: after tiring a day, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for the radio demon chasing you with questions spending the night, right?

Warnings: mentions of drugs and that’s about it (alastor is prick btw)

Word count: 2104

A/N: hello! This is kinda my first time posting here in tumblr so bear with me on my first post here. Also this isn’t proofread so there could be couple of mistakes here and there so I’m sorry about that. No use of Y/n. But please enjoy it! Btw this fic can be taken as romantic or platonic either could work. Enjoy! :)

For most of my human life I thought death would be simple and morbid. Once life expectancy reaches its limit for how much it can go, the body starts to get tired and the brain will shut, just as the body decomposes.

And just like that you would be dead.

I never tried hard to question the afterlife since it had gave me a headache if I had think too hard about it but I do admit I had a few times where I did think about it too hard.

I just didn’t expect to wind up as a goddamn sinner in a literal pot of hell.

I can admit I wasn’t exactly the most holiest person. I fucked up. Quite a lot of times. And I suppose that life is all about whether you be rewarded to get into heaven or thrown down to hell for punishment.

And for that I now have to deal with the princess of hell and her friends in the Hazbin Hotel.

Charlie was energetic to know that I was another guest at the hotel ready to redeem sinners and probably grab the chance to get to heaven. Seems quite ridiculous once the opportunity was handed to me. Honestly I stayed because I knew nowhere else would let me stay without paying or doing something to repay back.

Yet I got to meet some of the most interesting people. Starting with Angel Dust who was porn star himself and only seems to make it his whole personality but he sure knew how to make a party start going. He also makes anything—and I mean ANYTHING to be dirty.

Vaggie who seems to be strict on everyone and trying her best for all of us to actually have good morals. Sure, we didn’t care but we all understood she wanted for the best of us. Sir Pentious was there to spy on them because of the Vees but then accidentally liked the idea of staying and making a better change of himself.

And there was Nifty who has a certain quirk driven into her personality that was unlike everyone else but she was almost a kid just needed to be protected. Just try not to get stabbed by her. Husk who seems to tell everyone to fuck off even though he’s bartender and you’re sitting at the bar specifically wanting a drink. He acted he hated everyone, but he never really did. He just hated someone who seems to fake who they actually are.

And I’m guessing that’s why he isn’t particularly fond of Alastor.

Alastor is a unique demon. To say in a short sweet way to not say any bad word on his name. Yet it’s hard to say he’s quite a mystery to all of us. Charlie might own the hotel but Alastor is faculty manager of the hotel. He’s always looming somewhere in here and always there with an eye to watch us.

I have to admit I even avoid him. His presence was kind I never had bump into, I rather make it stay that way.

My legs had grown numb and heavier as I kept walking back to the hotel. I was exhausted from Charlie’s shenanigans today. Trying to encourage other sinners out there to come to the hotel and save themselves from the extermination. Failed horribly since how many either attempt to kill us, offer sex, or offer straight up cocaine.

I gave up and had left Charlie with the others to keep going. It was getting late either way and they were planning to go into club.

Didn’t want to get myself into too much trouble anymore either way.

Pushing the doors to let myself in the hotel—I had let out an exhale that I had held all day. My body was slumped and all I could think was my comfy bed.

“My, my, you look quite a mess dear!”

The radio voice had made me slightly jump out of my skin.

To the right of me I could see Alastor sitting on a couch in the lobby. One hand with whiskey in a glass cup and the other with a book. His legs crossed with one leg on top bouncing to the sound of jazz playing background.

“Alastor?”

“Didn’t expect a fellow like me up around this hour, but I couldn’t resist such a great novel here wouldn’t you say?”

He made that little hum that sparked a few radio statics in his voice.

“Look, if you’re here to mock or annoy me today I make sure those antlers of yours are gonna be long gone before you know it.”

Alastor laughed and got up with swift movement with his cane. That smile was almost stitched to his face every glance I took of him. I expect there won’t be a day where I don’t see that venom smile of his.

His hands clasped in front of him as he eyed me down. “Now why would I do that? I merely checking up on is all.”

He said it with such a smirk in his voice.

“Sure, whatever, do what you want I guess,” I grumbled under my breath.

Attempting to head upstairs, Alastor tried to get in my way as he kept reappearing in front of me in every corner I try to go.

“What the—“

“Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you’re going?” A playful tone was layered into his voice. Letting out chuckle as his antlers move just for a second.

He knew it was getting on my nerves.

“To my room. Is there something that you want?”

I was a bit hesitant when I first spoke, especially since Alastor was a type of demon who never necessarily wants nothing out of someone except manipulation.

He makes that same hum again, letting out a sing-song voice. “Well, I’m bored and I’m in the mood of doing something.”

“Okay—kill someone or some deer.”

I tried again walking away but he reappears again in front of me on the steps of the stairs. Keeping his eyes on me as he leaned on the handrail of the stairs. I could tell from his eyes that my annoyance was kicking the roof by now.

“Not really in the mood for that kind of fun tonight dear. I was actually hoping to maybe play some sorts of game with you.”

“A game?” I questioned.

“Yes! Just any sort of ordinary game. A game where I can ask questions about you and you have to answer them.”

I blinked at him for a moment and then narrow my eyes.

“So you’re interrogating me.”

“No, nonsense! Now, come on, sit on the couch and make yourself comfortable.”

Alastor nudge me downstairs and I follow him. I had no choice and I rather didn’t wanna push any limits with radio demon exactly. He wasn’t the type to be messing around.

Suspicion was written all over my face as I sat down.

Alastor offers whiskey in a glass with a smile. “Whiskey, dear?”

“Um—-no, no thank you.”

He sets the glass on the side table along with the book. Peering to my side I notice the book was the classic Dracula book.

Alastor sat on the other end of the couch. A leg propped on the other. Resting his chin on his hand on the arm rest.

“Now, I’ll start of the with an easy question to start off soft,” stated Alastor. “Do I annoy you?”

“Yes. Next question.”

His smirk grew wide yet his eyes narrowed down on me. Letting out a laugh that sounded for sure forced but as well annoyed.

“Okay, let me ask an easier question. What is your favorite color?”

“Oh well um—maroon. Maroon is my favorite color.”

Alastor hummed to himself. “Quite an unique answer. Didn’t take you as the type to like color such as maroon.”

“Red or maroon. I just like good color of red. Next question.”

Alastor tapped his fingers along the arm rest as he thought of another question to ask.

“What’s your favorite time of day?

Looking back at him with a tilted head I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Alastor rolled his eyes jokingly and chuckled, seeming slightly amused of me. “I mean exactly what I said. What is your favorite time of day? Mornings? Afternoons? Nights?”

He lists off with this condescending tone, as if he spoke to me as a child.

“Watch your tone, and watch your ears, deer,” I hissed. But since you’re so damn curious. It’s night. And sometimes late afternoons. Not as much anymore though. I love them more in human life.”

“Human life you say?”

Alastor watches me as I adjust the black turtleneck I wore.

“Next question please.”

Alastor didn’t say anything but made a louder hum as he thought. Still overbearing me with annoyance of course.

“I’m running out of quite a lot of questions here but I suppose I should’ve asked this first, how are you liking this hotel so far?”

The tone switches and audibly notices it. Turning into this nonchalant tone. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be curious or crack me under pressure with his eyes seeming to only stare at me.

With a sharp inhale I spoke direct.

“Annoying as fuck. I never was too fond of the idea of redeeming since it was hard to wrap my head around the fact that sinners here can even get the chance to go up to heaven with the rest of angels.”

He kept silent with his smile but I kept continuing.

“I didn’t think it would work. And I still have mixed feelings about it but…I do have to admit I kinda like the friends I made here.”

His eyebrow raised and he tilted his head almsot intrigued of what I had said. “I see. And these friends you’ve made here..”

His smile twisted into a smirk as he leaned forward slightly, his elbows on his knees.

“Any particular ones you admire the most?”

It was a question that had me actually thinking this time around and I knew it was a way for Alastor to get to me, and I didn’t want him too.

“Well, each person has their own unique thing to admire.”

He tweaks his head to the side and only narrows his eyes. Still with smile.

“Charlie can be a lot and maybe too hyper, but she’s willing to give people a chance. Vaggie pushes everyone and is harsh but does it for us to get better.. Sir Pentious is someone willing to give up villainous tendencies. Angel is…well Angel but he is a friend that is loyal and would do anything to back up friend.

Husker and Nifty are the same as well. All of them have everything to admire about.”

Alastor listened intently on how I spoke each of the hotel residents living here

“Interesting. Very interesting.”

He sat back once again, his legs still crossed and his hands back in his lap. Alastor chuckled again, looking at me for a moment.

“And what about me? Is there anything you admire about me?”

I scoffed and smirk a little.

“A bit full of yourself are you?”

His eye twitched a little and seemed ready to respond, but I quickly added on.

“You always stay in control. Even if you aren’t or you’re not wanting to, you always are. You piece of shit who certainly earn a spot living here. I’ll give you that, but even I can admit that you’re intelligent in what you do. Even how manic and evil it can be.”

Alastor chuckled again. He was quite amused by my words. That wasn’t what he was expecting, but he was satisfied by it. He leaned forward a bit again, resting his arms on his legs. His elbows on his knees once again as he stared right into your eyes with his permanent smirk.

“How observant you are my dear. I thought you’d think of me as a annoying bastard”

“No, I also think that too.”

A smile spread on my lips as genuine the pit of fire in hell and before another word had slipped out of Alastors mouth, a rush of familiar friends came through the door.

“I need fucking a drink what the hell was that!?” Angel's voice rang through the hotel and same with others.

I laughed and got distracted by them as soon they called for me but Alastor sat on the couch there observing the others.

Asking himself many questions of himself now.

For how much this sinner might’ve made him rethink his plan.

[reds-skull]

Bringer of Demise - Chapter 1

[MAKAROV'S FATE COMIC] [AO3]

When I say I've been thinking about this ever since finishing part 1...

I'm very excited to start a new multi-chapter story, doubly so with revenant AU! I'm not sure how long this will be, but I have a feeling it will be longer than part 1 :)

For those that skipped the side-stories, some details in this chapter refer to them, they're not a must-read to understand, but I heavily encourage it! You're also welcome to read the comic, it shows Makarov and Fate's reactions to the events of part 1...

Now, before I start rambling again... Chapter 1: The Labyrinthine Design of Fate

He always had a sort of scorching at his chest. A never-ending flame, bugs beneath his skin. As if he was burning alive.

As if he never escaped his self-made grave.

Even now, he could feel it, little legs of burning moths climbing up and down his arms, an overwhelming sensation that hasn’t left him in six years-

Except… There, a hand slides over his. Cool, a running river between his fingers. A breath of the void in a world so loud.

Soap smiles. Simon.

“Finally awake, Johnny?”

He buries his face into the pillow, hiding his growing grin. The hand continues to hold his, and that’s all the reasons he needs to continue sleeping.

“Gonna be like that, hm?” the voice hums thoughtfully, “I went to a zoo last month. Wouldn’t recommend, all they had was some dog.”

Soap frowns. He isn’t going to…

“It was a shitzu.”

He groans. “Ye didn’t…” Soap cracks open an eye, staring unimpressed at Simon’s crinkling eyes.

Simon pulls at his hand, making him sit up, “should be honored you’re waking up to my wonderful jokes.” he lets go of him, turning back to his desk. Soap notices the half-filled reports covering it.

Even several weeks later, the 141 is practically sinking under the mountain of paperwork that dropped on them as soon as they returned to the UK.

Soap flops back onto the bed, “rather be sleepin’ than hearing that shite.” Simon doesn’t give him a response, his pen gliding once again on the paper. “Is this one above my clearance as well?”

“No. Just forms to apply for changes in our Revenant documents, again.”

“You’d think they’d figure it out by now…” he turns to stare at the ceiling, an odd feeling in his chest.

The day they met… Lumity, Soap was ecstatic. It was a proof of his and Simon’s eternal connection, breaking the final barrier between them, showing that even the Reapers themselves couldn’t keep them apart.

He’s still glad of that, mind. He would never ask to be separated from Simon. But…

But it’s not something they could hide. As much as Price and Laswell cover for them, to conceal the existence of a whole new Reaper was beyond them.

It’s that uncertainty that scares him. The higher-ups haven’t done anything with them yet, the whole taskforce grounded until the dust settles, but Soap is sure it won’t pass by quietly.

When it comes to him, nothing ever does, it seems.

He turns his head to stare at Simon again. The man he was fated to kill. The way he looks when they’re like this, hidden away from the world and the realms beyond it, when they’re just Johnny and Simon, never stops to mesmerize him. He thinks, if they were perhaps a little different, maybe this would’ve been permanent.

Then again, were they any different, they’d likely be dead by now.

The question ‘why did it choose me?’ is usually screamed in his mind when phantom blood covers his hands, when the answering thought is often ‘it shouldn’t have’. Soap asks himself again, but with curiosity.

How much does Fate know?

“You’re not sleeping again, are you?” Simon asks with a smile in his voice.

Soap gets up, stretching his back, “nothin’ else better to do, is there?”

“Could always help me with reports.”

He side-eyes Simon, “like I said, nothing better to do.”

Simon scoffs, and Soap opens his mouth to goad him to another round of bickering, when a sort of buzzing goes up his spine. Simon’s shuddering back tells him he felt it as well.

“Our Reapers-” Simon locks eyes with him, when the world melts away.

When Soap comes to, the realm is dark. Cold. Words he’d never use to describe his Reaper.

Speaking of… where are they?

“S-Simon?” Soap looks around, finding him a few paces away, his head tilted up. His brows furrow, and he follows his line of sight.

Soap stumbles back, his heart pounding, “what- Buanaiche…?”

Lumity hangs above them, their body twisted, features broken by dark red. Pulled in different directions by the strings, it is as if something was trying to rip each limb apart, as if to separate… Ladder-like patterns and moths weave around the trapped being, light itself bound by crimson lines.

“What happened to you, Reaper?” Simon whispers, fear evident in his voice.

“FATE…… The invader… IT DARED ENTER OUR REALM…”

“Fate did this to you?” Soap’s eyes follow the red strings, where they disappear in the dark fog of Lumity’s realm.

Lumity’s head twitches, and gleaming white light drips from their neck. Soap asks himself, absentmindedly, if Reapers can even feel pain.

“LISTEN CLOSELY REVENANTS… Fate is plotting against us… Against your allies…”

A deafening sound cracks through the still air, making both Soap and Simon clutch at their ears. One of the strings snaps, only to loop back around one of Lumity’s many arms.

“A man with two faces will approach you… He will be an agent of Fate… YOU MUSTN’T FOLLOW HIM.”

“B-Buanaiche…” Soap winces when Lumity lets out a sound no words in any human language can describe, “what is Fate doing to you?”

“I will not bow down to it… I WILL NEVER BOW DOWN TO IT… This is nothing but a show… A petty show…”

Simon pulls at his sleeve, and takes his left hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Be vigilant, revenants… Fate is not alone…

IT IS NOT ONLY US THAT GAZE UPON YOU NOW…”

Before Soap could take another breath, Lumity’s realm swirls, and the only thing left is that which holds his hand, shaking with the same terror as him.

They collapse to the floor, Soap’s breath hitching in his throat. Simon grunts, bringing a hand to his ear to check if it’s bleeding. He looks up at him, and shakes his head minutely.

“We…” Simon starts, swallowing thickly, “we need to find Price and Gaz.”

Soap nods, pushing himself up to stand on numb legs. His mind feels like it’s pulled apart like his Reapers, thoughts forming only to dissipate.

He follows Ghost out of his barracks, his steps loud and sure, even if his fists still tremble at his sides. The hallways are silent, most soldiers out training at these hours. Ghost directs them towards the fields now, where Gaz should be supervising recruits.

As they get closer, a few of them run into the building, their faces red with exertion and heads swiveling around. 

Soap spots Cooper, one of the FNGs he often trains, and calls out to him, “what’s going on with you lot? Why are ye not in drills?”

“Sergeant MacTavish! Lieutenant!” Cooper shouts, the words leaving his mouth in one hurried breath, “They- the revenants on base, they’re all-”

Another recruit butts in, “they all just stopped moving, they’re not reacting to anything!”

Ghost scoffs, pushing between the soldiers to get to the doors. The rookies snap their mouths shut, staring with wide eyes at them as they exit to the training grounds.

Soap didn’t want to believe them, hoping to dismiss their worry off when seeing it himself, but it was exactly as they said.

Most soldiers are moving, gathered around still figures. He can see Gaz from here, his face slack. The few other revenants on base, the majority of them belonging to the Reaper of Flesh, are as motionless as him. 

“They’re all…” Soap mutters.

Ghost’s eyes narrow, “in their Reaper’s realm.”

“Think Fate got them too?” Soap walks towards Gaz, Ghost right behind him.

The recruits surrounding Kyle part for them, Ghost glaring at the ones that tried to shake Gaz, “no, but it can’t be a coincidence.”

Gaz stares at the horizon unblinking. The sight unnerves Soap, even if he knows he looks exactly like that when his Reaper summons him. He can’t recall if he’s ever seen a revenant in this state.

A movement catches his attention, and Soap takes a step back when Gaz’s hands start twitching, his body floating a few inches off the ground, muscles taut. One soldier from the small crowd around them asks, “i-is that normal?”

A moment later, as if an invisible cable snapped, Gaz falls to the ground, knocking the hat off his head trying to dig his fingers into his scalp.

Soap instantly crouches in front of him, noticing in his periphery how the rest of the revenants come to as well, “Gaz? Ye alright?”

Ghost snatches his hand when he goes to place it on Gaz’s shivering shoulder, and addresses Kyle, “Garrick, give me sitrep.”

Gaz shakes his head, a few muted sobs escaping him. “My… My Reaper…” he heaves, “it told me to c-choose.”

“Choose?” Soap prompts him.

“Between Fate and Lumity. Between Makarov… and you.” Kyle finally looks up, his eyes red and tearful, pupil blown, “I chose you. I would never- but my Reaper…” his face contorts, “it was… furious, or not- I don’t know-” he lets out a frustrated huff, “all I know, it wasn’t happy with my choice.”

Ghost offers Gaz a hand, and helps him up. He then turns to the rest of the recruits and snarls, “what are you standing ‘ere for? Get the fuck out of my sight!”

Their little crowd disperses like a flock of birds. Soap picks up Gaz’s baseball cap, brushing the dirt off and handing it to him, “the Reaper of Pull never did like Destruction… You think that’s what the other revenants were asked?” he asks Ghost.

Ghost lets go of Kyle, making sure he can stand by himself, “... Price knows more about how Fate operates than anyone else on base.”

Price’s thoughts leak far before his office even comes into view. They’re nothing but a jumbled mess of images and emotions, and none of them make the rising dread within Soap lessen.

Gaz hasn’t stopped shaking, his steps heavier, like he’s pushing himself towards the earth in an attempt to stay steady. They haven’t spoken a word on the way here, Ghost’s eyes darting around tensely.

Soap himself can’t make heads or tails from this. That buzzing sensation under his skin, that usually forebodes his Reaper pulling him to its realm, hasn’t left. His fingers burn brighter, flames trailing far behind him as they walk.

Ghost doesn’t bother knocking, swinging the door to Price’s office wide open and ushering Soap and Gaz inside before locking it behind them.

Soap looks at their Captain for a few moments, his head in his hands.

“... Price?” Kyle is the first to break the silence. Price lets out a shuddering sigh, and looks up.

The Captain removes his hat, gripping it tightly until his knuckles turn white, “it asked you to choose, I presume?”

Gaz nods, “Mine did, yeah, but… I don’t know about Ghost and Soap-”

“No.” Price cuts him off, tone devoid of any emotion. “Lumity isn’t in a position to ask, are they?” he studies them with narrowed eyes.

Soap stares back, feeling Price’s mind prob at his, picking apart what he saw in Lumity’s realm, what they told them. The warnings, Fate’s strings wrapping around light like spiderwebs.

“I met Makarov once, over a decade ago.” Price explains as he retreats from Soap’s thoughts, “we didn’t know it was him, at the time. But he knew we were coming.”

“He showed me what his powers can do, a fraction of his Reaper’s. In all my years, I’ve never read a mind quite like his.”

“What did you see?” Soap can’t help but ask, fear warring with curiosity. Makarov is an enigma, one they only know one thing about.

The Revenant of Fate is always several steps ahead.

Price closes his eyes, hands coming up to message his head, “he showed me my own fate. Showed me people I haven’t even met yet, dead at my feet. We were lucky, according to my Reaper, until now. Fate didn’t have much interest in Humanity.”

Something dreadful seeps into his gut, and Price doesn’t open his mouth when the next words appear in their brains.

“Now, it saw something that caught its attention.”

“IT IS NOT ONLY US THAT GAZE UPON YOU NOW”

… What have they done…?

Price fills Gaz in, about Lumity’s warning. They speak among themselves in hushed voices, debating on who could possibly be a traitor, what can be done to weed them out. Talking aimlessly, as they don’t know enough about the situation to figure anything out yet. Anything is better than the suffocating silence, though.

Soap found himself staring at the grout lines of the tiled floor, thoughts such a jumbled mess even Price stirs clear from his mind. Ghost isn’t deterred, however, and has been a constant presence by his side. As he has been, for the last few months.

Soap thinks he would’ve had an easier time accepting this if he was the one destined to die. But Ghost? He’d never regret not killing him.

It angers him, to the point he has to keep his entire focus on minimizing his flames - who gave Fate the right to decide who he kills?

How much power does Fate hold? Is it the one that decided who becomes a revenant, and who doesn’t?

If Fate can capture a Reaper, there’s no limit to what it can do to them.

Cool fingers wrap around his left hand, white fire heedless of the scarred skin. Soap looks up at Ghost, humming a question.

“Remember our promise.” is all Ghost says, and somehow that’s all Soap needs to take a mental step back, and breathe in deeply.

Soap echoes his words from weeks ago now, spoken under the warm glow of a fancy restaurant, with the same hand in his.

“Together.”

They hear a throat clearing after a few minutes, Price motioning for them to sit next to his desk.

“Before… This happened, I was planning on notifying you of something.” Price starts, his eyes locked onto Ghost’s, “Laswell and the higher-ups consulted Doctor Novikov about Lumity, and have come into the conclusion you two need to redo your revenant tests.”

Ghost scoffs, leaning back in his chair to sneer, “what is he going to tell us that we don’t already know? He didn’t know a bloody thing about Void before it merged, doubt he has any new revelations he could share with us.”

The Captain sighs heavily, and Soap gets the feeling this isn’t the first time a conversation of this sort happens between these two, “it’s part of the protocol, Simon. Or at least as much protocol that can be salvaged in your case.”

Soap leans in to half-whisper in Gaz’s ear, “ye know this… Novikov? The fuck’s he a doctor fer?”

Gaz blinks at him for a second, before reeling back, “you- you don’t know Novikov??”

“No???” Soap frowns, turning around to see Ghost and Price stopped arguing. “How do ye know him?”

“He’s been the head Spiritulogist of the SAS for the last… what was it, ten years, Price?”

“Over a decade, been here since before I was Reaped.” Price says incredulously, “I know your file’s been redacted to hell and back son, but don’t tell me you never even been through your basic revenant testing?”

Soap shakes his head, “they never sent anyone to examine me… I assumed they didn’t need to check my limits, with…” the words die on his tongue, and Price redirects his thoughts before they can go down a dark path.

“I worked with Novikov for as long as I’ve been a revenant. He’s good at what he does.” the Captain says, ignoring Ghost’s growl.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never met a Spiritulogist, mate.” Gaz gently elbows him with a small grin.

Soap sneaks another glance at Ghost, noting his stormy eyes, before answering, “I did, never about my own powers. Don’t think any o’ them had clearance.”

Ghost murmurs, “saved you several headaches.”

“Well,” Price slaps his knees, getting up from his chair, “there’s always a first for everything. Novikov got cleared by Laswell, so I assume he has enough information to assess you. He’s due to arrive at any moment, let’s take it to the tarmac.”

They follow him out of the office, Ghost walking ahead, irritation practically fuming out of him. Whatever past this Novikov has with Simon, it can’t be good. Then again, Ghost seems to dislike him more based on his profession, than the man himself.

The tarmac isn’t as hectic as it usually is. Soap attributes that to the earlier revenant incident, he personally knows at least three technicians bearing the revenant status working here. There are some gruesome ways to die dealing with aircrafts, that’s for certain. He gets reminded that of the day Gaz told him the story about his Reaping.

Soap hated the blank stare he had back then, guilt a mirror image of his own. Felt an instant connection to him, and hypocritically wanted to tell him he has nothing to be guilty of. Well, maybe not so hypocritically. Gaz would never do what he did.

The helo carrying Novikov has already started descending by the time they arrive. Ghost is a menacing shadow at his side, anger not subsiding in the short walk to here. Soap had to stop himself from asking about it multiple times. He doesn’t think he’ll get more than a grunt from Ghost at this state.

Price approaches the helo as it lands, probably greeting Novikov with his powers. When the loading ramp lowers, Soap watches a short, plump man walk down to shake hands with the Captain.

The first thing Soap clocks in from the man is that he has never been in an active war zone. There’s a lack of awareness the Doctor emanates, his focus not straying from the person in front of him, despite being surrounded by several SAS soldiers, and one very disgruntled, skull-faced revenant.

Price eventually returned to them with Novikov and several other people Soap can only assume are his assistants. Ghost steps closer to him, practically gluing himself to Soap’s side. He leans in to nudge his arm, silently asking him to relax, if only for a moment.

“Lieutenant Ghost, Sergeant Garrick, it is good to see you.” Novikov greets, Gaz reaching to shake his hand. The Doctor offers it to Ghost as well, but all the masked man does is glare at him.

Novikov seems undeterred by the Lieutenant’s hostility, and turns to Soap, “Sergeant John MacTavish,” Soap finally places his accent as Russian, “I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted yet.”

Soap shakes his right hand in the air, momentarily extinguishing its flames, before shaking the Doctor’s hand, “we haven’t.”

Novikov’s grip tightens, and he lets go of Soap’s hand, “I will be honored to be the one to test your powers for the first time, Sergeant. It is not common for revenants to skip those, as you can imagine.”

There’s an almost bitter note to his last sentence. Soap doesn’t like that he feels like Novikov has been waiting for this opportunity for a long, long time.

The words of Lumity have been etched to his heart, burned a hole in his consciousness, began a downward spiral nothing, not even the memory of Ghost’s hand in his, can stop.

Soap watches the Doctor leave, not before a promise to test them first thing in the morning, tomorrow, and he wonders.

He wonders if this, too, is part of the labyrinthine design of Fate.

[senjuhashirama]

THE NUANCE OF HASHIRAMA’S UNFAMOUS QUOTE

After Hashirama wins a fight with Madara at the Valley of the End and subsequently impales Madara with a sword, Hashirama says to him:

Hashirama is saying this memorable quote to a dying Madara as if he was trying to justify his decision to kill Madara not only to Madara but also to himself. He’s reminding Madara that he will choose Konoha over anything else (including Madara) no matter what. He’s firm and assured with his decision. However, he’s not sure if it’s the right decision and he perceives his action as desperate. In other words, He feels like he had no other option, and he feels similarly to a rat being forced into a corner. He can only jump at his enemy or he (and everything he worked for) dies. He blames Madara for him having to face this hard situation. He doesn’t feel like he‘s won, there’s no movement in his face to suggest that, he’s angry at best for being cornered. Rather than that, he feels like he’s lost together with Madara.

However, this quote alone without context (as it’s usually thrown around) doesn’t tell us the whole story of Hashirama’s point of view that was shaped by his upbringing, experiences and dire situation.

When Hashirama says he would kill his child if the child was a threat Konoha, He doesn’t talk about a literal six years old child who came with a wooden sword. And he doesn’t talk about an adult child he could easily overpower and deal with them verbally. Instead, he talks about an offspring that would be at least on Hashirama’s level of power who would try to destroy Konoha and everyone in it, including babies and families. To put it more simply, it‘s not about only protecting Konoha as a political system but about actual people living there who wouldn’t stand a chance against said offspring and would eventually die if the offspring wasn’t stopped. Considering all previous points, Hashirama wouldn’t kill his offspring as a form of punishment, but out of necessity and out of desperation. This is also how he feels about killing Madara – he doesn’t want to punish Madara.

However, Hashirama doesn’t just think about it, he also says it aloud, which can give sort of dark or even cold vibes. But to understand this, we need to look at the way Hashirama was raised. He was born in a midst of wars where death was so prevalent that he becomes a little obsessed about it. His two brothers died, and we can assume that many of his friends and comrades also died. For Hashirama, death is a normalised, sad part of life and it’s not a taboo as it is later in the series. He is capable of talking about it and it, without a question, taught him to be compassionate.  

To Hashirama, death is not a punishment, but the last resort.   

Similarly, in Hashirama’s flashback, we can see where his struggles with parent/child relationships come from. His father was authoritative and abusive, which means that Hashirama was never shown a proper parent/child relationship. He struggled as a child and he probably automatically presumes he will struggle as a parent (on the other side) too. We don’t know how Hashirama was as a father and I don’t personally believe he was anything like Butsuma, but his traumatic experience with his own father probably shaped Hashirama’s view of familiar relationships. That’s why it was so easy for him to say aloud that he would kill his own offspring if they threatened Konoha. Hashirama’s feelings about family are more numb and lacking because of the abuse he has suffered. Because of that, he will never see father/son relationship as only good and loving as that’s not what he knows. Hashirama’s statement is rather dark and it lacks nurturing (that is prevalent in healthy family relationships), just as his adolescence.

Despite this, Hashirama isn’t sure if his decisions he made for Konoha were right. Madara himself warns him that his vision will bring darkness upon Konoha. Hashirama has regrets and doesn’t fully justify his decision as being right.

That said, Hashirama‘s statement to Madara about killing a family member and his regrets aren’t supposed to show him as a bad person. Instead, they humanise him and they make him seem like an individual rather than an ideal.

On the contrary, Hashirama‘s „heroic sacrifice“ (killing an enemy who was a friend) isn’t supposed to show him as a good person. He’s not just good and flawless or simply bad. He’s not just a cartoonishly evil character and neither he’s a funny and innocent himbo. He’s a nuanced character with flaws, not just an aspirational hero whose hands are clean.

[snows-2am-thoughts]

PM and ADA deal Theory

Hey guys, friendly reminder that Mori is likely still gonna ask for someone from the ADA to join the PM. It honestly hurts my soul to think that the ADA will lose someone this soon after all the shit in this arc went down but Mori isn’t one to care about that kind of stuff. 

SEASON FIVE SPOILERS

This is about 1.7k words so be warned

I know a lot of people are sold on the theory that it’ll probably be Tanizaki since Asagiri is big on foreshadowing and Tanizaki does have a homicidal side but I don’t think he’d let himself be put in a position to where his sister might be in danger or get a target on her back. He’d probably run away or kill the people in question before that happened. Not to mention since his run in with Akutagawa and the black lizard that he sort of hates most if not all of the mafia members. He was so ready to go to war with the PM to defend the agency and someone like this would be super hard to control, deal with the ADA or not.

Mori isn’t stupid, in fact he’s very calculating and very cunning and who are his biggest obsessions? He’s always so focused on Dazai and Yosano but both of these are off limits in his eyes. Yosano is off limits because of the terms of the deal with Fukuzawa and Dazai is off because Mori wants him to come back on his own. Now we have Kyouka, Atsushi, Kenji, Ranpo  and Kunikida left to choose from. 

Kunikida is off the table I think because he’s a child bombing away from just completely breaking. There is a part of me that believes Mori could pick Kunikida solely to break him and watch Fukuzawa and Dazai suffer but Mori is also the type of boss that doesn’t want to waste powerful allies if he doesn’t need to. I mean, he’s literally letting Tachihara choose his loyalties, he’ll probably still get punished severely but Mori isn’t one to just waste men unless it’s for good reason or worth the risks. Also Kunikida is Fukuzawa’s successor and something tells me that Mori doesn’t wanna deal with the strict moral types. 

Ranpo is definitely off the table. Fukuzawa would go batshit if Mori picked him. He just lost his childhood best friend. Do you think he’s gonna let Mori take his son next? No he will not. Also Ranpo would blatantly refuse to work with him. He’s smart enough to survive but Ranpo is disinterested in most things and Fukuzawa is really the only one who can make him do something. I don’t think Mori would want to deal with that either. 

Now we have Atsushi, Kenji and Kyouka. Mori usually chooses children to take under his wing because they’re easy to manipulate and easy to mold into his ideal subordinates. However Kyouka was already in the mafia once and Kouyou even used up her slight favor with Mori to let her leave the mafia with no consequences. I don’t think he’d want to deal with the hassle of internal conflict since Kouyou would be pissed if he took Kyouka away from the light that she enjoys so much. However much Kouyou wants to deny that she can’t help Kyouka anymore, she’s only human and she’s very much attached to the Kyouka who shares a similar past and ability. 

Kenji’s situation is kind of hard to determine. As stated, Mori does prefer to mold and manipulate children rather than adults but Kenji is kind of an oddity among humans. Not because of his ability but because of his personality. He’s very much a “you fuck around and find out” type of guy is willing to believe the best in people despite what they may do or have done. I don’t see many reasons why Mori wouldn’t choose him other than there are better options than Kenji. Sure Kenji is super powerful with a very useful gift but there are other members that would fit his goals better. 

Now Atsushi, he’s the biggest contender for the mafia recruit in my mind for a few reasons. Now we saw in the series that there were gonna be three main villains (The Guild, the Decay of Angels and the Order of the Clock Tower) and now we have finished out with two of them. This means that we’re possibly getting into the last major arc or two of the main plot of the story and there are still so many unanswered questions about Atsushi. 

Atsushi was deemed the envy of all ability users by Fyodor which was why Shibusawa originally held an interest in him. My question is why Fyodor was interested enough in Atsushi to know of him and what is their connection that Fyodor was even able to know of him. Fyodor is a genius but the orphanage headmaster said that he was a randomly dumped toddler and he lived most of his life in a cage in the orphanage. This in itself is fishy but I’ll get to that in a second. Moreover, Atsushi’s ability seems like it just resists almost all other abilities with the ability to cut through space itself and high regeneration abilities that causes most wounds to go away instantly when he’s in his full tiger form, most other abilities don’t affect him when he’s fully a tiger. 

Who is called the most powerful ability user? Natsume is, and he is able to turn into a cat. Seeing the pattern here? When did the headmaster die? When he was trying to find Atsushi and talk to him again. It’s very suspicious timing and I wholeheartedly believe that he was silenced by someone who didn’t want Atsushi knowing something important about himself. And then we have the seven billion bounty that was put on his head because of his ability. I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that Fitzgerald, who wanted to find The Book, wanted the tiger so badly that he was willing to spend that much. 

Asagiri is a beast at foreshadowing and he doesn’t do anything for kicks, all of his moves are deliberate. There is something about Atsushi that we’re missing and I’m willing to bet that Mori, who was going to accept the bounty, wants to know what it is as much as we do. Atsushi’s strange ability, the holes in his past from before the orphanage, Fyodor and Shibusawa’s interest in him, his correlation to Natsume, his probable connections to locating the book and the fact that Dazai was coincidentally there to save him when he came to Yokohama? Yeah, there’s definitely something up with Atsushi and the poor kid doesn’t even realize it. 

So yes, I do think that Mori either a) wants to figure out Atsushi’s situation in relation to everything or b) he knows something and wants to exploit it out of him. My second point is that Mori wants to break Dazai down and build him up as the perfect PM boss. Mori is someone who manipulates and breaks from the sidelines then watches conflict and in the aftermath, glues the pieces of what once was back together in a collage of his own liking. He knows he can’t beat Dazai but he can make him suffer. Who is Dazai the closest to at the agency? Atsushi. 

Dazai always says, “Atsushi and the others” while making sure Atsushi makes it out alive in any situation that he is in. Dazai has a big soft spot for Atsushi, the kid he took in as a mentor and the kid who wholeheartedly believes without any hesitation that he is a good person. He brought his own chair and made a home in Dazai’s heart without his permission. Atsushi knows he was in the PM, knows he’s the reason for a lot of Akutagwa’s issues, knows about some of the atrocities he’s committed but still smiles genuinely at him. Of course he doesn’t know everything but Atsushi is probably Dazai’s biggest apologist (It’s not Akutagawa but that's for a different post). Atsushi is the personification of Oda’s last wish to Dazai and Mori definitely knows that he can hurt Dazai by hurting his beloved mentee.

Mori is also very aware of the new generation of soukoku. If he’s able to wrangle and manage Akutagawa (he’s alive shut up) a little more because Atsushi is his partner then all the more reason to choose him. Atsushi covers all the bases, a mysterious power that could make his organization that much more untouchable, mess with Dazai, mess with the agency and manage his own employees better. It doesn’t help that Atsushi’s mental state isn’t the best. He’s not a kid but he’s traumatized and doesn’t have the same development other 18 year olds do, and that can be just as easily to manipulate as a child. It would be difficult because Atsushi genuinely believes in Dazai with everything he is but every person is able to break and Mori is especially good at that. 

I know that Fukuzawa’s ability is the reason we don’t see any more late night weretiger situations but Atsushi has so much more control now than when he did at the beginning of the series. It’s also very much possible that Mori is looking for a degree of uncontrollable tiger to help him with his goals. It’s also been confirmed that pain can manage his transformations as seen with his collar in BSD BEAST. 

It also doesn’t help that Asagiri tends to go through the trauma route to have his characters develop and experiencing the “darkside” of Yokohama just may be what he thinks Atsushi needs to develop more. 

So yeah, I think Mori may choose Atsushi as the new PM member but don’t quote me on this if I’m wrong, it’ll be embarrassing. They also may just throw this plotline out the window since both sides suffered this past arc, they may find it illogical to go through with the deal when the truce between the PM and ADA is still sensitive but I doubt it. Mori isn’t one to care for those things. 

[huntingpeople-savingsam]

Okay so, I don’t know why this is speaking to me now but rewatching this specific scene, where Jonathan says to Nancy at the end of season 4 after both of them going through their respective season’s ordeals,

“Sorry I wasn’t here.”

He says this not because Fred died (so similar to how Barb did), not because he wanted to be there with her during Spring Break, not because he wanted to follow her journalistic hunches straight into Vecna’s childhood home, not even because Vecna tried to come for Nancy and could’ve killed her the same as the others, but because he felt guilty he wasn’t there when the Upside Down, and the entities that had taken Will, came for the people of Hawkins, with Nancy included.

It’s not that Jonathan wouldn’t have cared if Vecna or anything from the Upside Down had hurt or killed Nancy, of course he would, but Nancy in mourning? Nope. Nancy with her detective brain leading her into danger? Not willingly. Nancy being forced to confront the feelings of guilt she’s never been able to address or overcome during her entire relationship with Jonathan? Hell no.

Jonathan, bless his soul, has sadly dedicated his whole life to one thing; protecting his family and by extension, himself from the hurt of being helpless to save them. Nancy he cared for, she had similar goals to him, but she’s not a priority to him now, and frankly, she never really was.

I think this scene jumped out to me so much because he says this semi unprompted while he and Nancy are in the middle of an awkward silence together, and the response he gets is not necessarily one I think he expects either:

“To be honest, I’m kind of glad you weren’t.”

And that begs the question, what did Nancy mean by that.

She has her quick cover, but it’s clear that she meant what she’s been saying for the last two (yes, two, because it didn’t just start in season 4) seasons, that when Nancy needs Jonathan, he isn’t there.

In season 3, we first see it when Jonathan and Nancy start having arguments about work, Jonathan not supporting or defending Nancy with their sexist bosses, Nancy’s hunches jeopardizing her and Jonathan’s jobs when Jonathan needs the opportunity more than she does, etc. etc. etc.

But we see it, the same as they both admit even then:

“I guess we just don’t understand each other anymore.”

“I guess not.”

And going into season 4, we see the same thing. At the start of the season, Nancy is complaining to Fred about Jonathan not coming to Hawkins for Spring Break and not committing to going to the same college as her in the Fall so they’d be together again, and she’s clearly annoyed and when she has a journalistic hunch, she only has her friend Fred to follow her (which she sadly later regrets).

Meanwhile Jonathan is complaining to Argyle that he doesn’t want the same thing as Nancy but he doesn’t know how to tell her. He doesn’t want to keep lying to her but he doesn’t want to tell her the truth and risk her giving everything up to be with him (which he wouldn’t do for her, can you imagine him leaving Will behind for Nancy?). And it’s absolutely fine that Jonathan is realizing that he doesn’t want the same thing anymore and that the relationship isn’t working anymore, but Argyle said it best:

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Not lie!”

So when Jonathan says in this episode that he’s sorry he wasn’t there with Nancy while her and the kids and Robin and Steve are dealing with Vecna, and Jonathan and Will and Argyle and Mike are tracking down Eleven and running for their lives from the shady government ops guys, is he really telling the truth?

Would he rather have been with Nancy, following her hunches, letting her lead them into danger to find the truth, and being there for her when her guilt overwhelmed her?

Would he have rather done any of those things which he has a history of not doing, than be where he was, protecting and being with his family and the one friend he’s had that he could have alongside his family while out of harm’s way up until this point?

I don’t know that he would.

[bagerfluff]

Love Fights

Set in season one - Scott McCall x Male Reader

Prompt - "I can't believe I did that"

Y/n would not call himself a violent person. He normally stayed in the back and tried to solve conflicts with words rather than fist. But something in him snapped when he saw Jackson bullying Scott. Y/n didn’t really know Scott. They talked a couple of times, but they weren’t friends. But Y/n found the boy cute. With his fluffy brown hair, brown eyes, his slender but muscular build, even his uneven jaw looked cute. Plus, he looked hot playing lacrosse. Y/n cared about the boy, a lot more than normal since he started acting weird.  

He seemed to get magically better at lacrosse, he seemed to have really sensitive hearing, and he no longer needed his asthma inhaler. Y/n wondered the answer to all of these questions but he never had the confidence to ask Scott or his friend Stiles for the answers. So Y/n just watched like the answers would hit him in the face. And thinking about it made Y/n feel like a stalker. But it never happened, but what did was Jackson deciding to bully Scott. Y/n watched from his locker as it happened. 

Scott was alone, Stiles nowhere to be seen. So Scott took the yelling. That didn’t make Y/n mad, but what did was when Jackson decided to punch Scott in the jaw. Y/n didn’t know what came over him but he dropped his bag, slammed his locker shut, walked over to Jackson, and punched him in the face. Y/n didn’t stop there. He then punched Jackson in the gut. Then he kicked his legs out from under him. Got on top of him. Then Punched him. Again and again and again and again. Y/n would have kept going if Scott didn’t pull him off.

Once of the now bloody and bruised Jackson, Scott dragged Y/n to an empty classroom and shut the door. Y/n didn’t really understand what happened until the adrenalin wore off. His breathing slowed as he looked down at his knuckles. They were covered in blood and were bruised. Jackson didn’t manage to land a punch on Y/n so there was no blood anywhere else. Y/n’s eyes widened as he looked at his knuckles. Why did he do that? He was going to get detention. Jackson’s family could sue. 

“I can’t believe I did that” Y/n said so quietly that if it wasn't for Scott’s werewolf hearing, he wouldn’t have heard it. “Me neither” Scott said as he walked closer to Y/n. “Come on” Scott said after a minute “we need to go to the nurse”. But Y/n didn’t move. He had attacked a guy. He could have killed him if Scott didn’t pull him off. Once Scott realized that Y/n wasn’t going to move, he grabbed his hand and dragged him to the nurses office.

This caused a red color to come to Y/n’s face as Scott gestured to him to sit on one of the shitty beds they have in the office. A few minutes later the nurse appeared and told Scott to leave. Though Scott wanted to stay to ask Y/n why he beat up Jackson, Scott decided he could ask when Y/n was done getting patched up. So when Scott left he sat in one of the chairs outside the office. 

Scott wondered why Y/n did what he did while he waited. Did he just feel like beating up Jackson? But that didn’t sound like Y/n. From the few times he talked to him he seemed like a guy that wouldn’t go around punching people. Plus he had heard that Y/n isn’t a violent guy. Maybe Y/n was mad that he punched Scott. It didn’t hurt that much, plus with his super healing the bruise was already gone. But why would Y/n punch someone just because they punched him? Did Y/n care about him? They hadn’t talked many times so they were exactly friends. 

Scott did find the mysterious boy good looking. With his h/l h/c hair, e/c eyes, s/c skin. The way he cared about his friends and what he loved. No one ever made him drop his passions or what he loved. If Y/n loved something he would protect it with his life. So maybe Y/n cared about Scott. Maybe he liked Scott. Scott shook his head. Scott wasn’t even sure if he liked the boy back. Scott wasn’t even sure if he was gay, or bi. Scott sighed. So much is happening that could change his life. The bite, the dead body, and now this. Wasn’t high school bad enough. 

But it was the only explanation that made any sense. Scott was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Stiles running over to him and sitting next to him. “Scott!” Stiles screamed as he waved a hand in front of Scott’s face. Scott shook his head again and looked at Stiles. “Yay,” Scott said. “You good man” Scott nodded “I heard about what happened”. Scott's eyes widened “you did?” Scott asked, Stiles nodded. Scott looked back at the wall in front of him and continued to think as Stiles looked like he was thinking. “Do you know why Y/n did it?”

Stiles asked. Scott shook his head, not looking at Stiles. Stiles stopped talking, he wanted to think. Plus Scott didn’t look like he wanted to talk. A few minutes later Y/n stepped out of the nurse office with bandages around his knuckles. Y/n was looking at them like they still had blood on them. Scott abruptly stood up and looked at Y/n. Stiles and Y/n were both caught off guard by this. Stiles fell out of the chair he was sitting in while Y/n just snapped his head up to look at Scott. 

Scott looked at Y/n for a few minutes before asking his question. “Why did you do it?” Despite Scott not saying what Y/n did, Y/n seemed to know what he was talking about. Looking back down at his hands Y/n sighed. Y/n knew why he did what he did. He was angry that Jackson hit Scott. The truth was that Y/n wanted to protect Scott. Scott always got bullied but Y/n didn’t do anything about it. Guess he did now.

But Y/n couldn’t tell Scott that. Scott didn’t like men. He didn’t like him. So Y/n lied “I was tired of Jackson beating people up just because he felt like it” he said. But Scott knew he was lying. Even though Scott knew that Y/n would never punch somebody, that isn’t what told Scott that he was lying. It was his heart beat. Scott knew that someone's heart rate went up when lying and that’s what happened to Y/n. Scoot supposed that was a positive to his new werewolf problem. “You're lying,” Scott said, forgetting that he should not imply to random people that he can hear more than the average human “I can hear your heartbeat.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. Was Scott lying or could he actually hear his heartbeat. Scott had to be lying. There was probably another way Scott found out he lied. Y/n’s friends told him that he was a really bad liar. Y/n tried to think of another lie but nothing came out of his mouth. Y/n sighed “I was mad that Jackson hit you.” Y/n said quietly. So quietly that Stiles, who was just watching what was happening, couldn’t hear him. But Scott could.

“Why” Scott asked as he walked closer to Y/n. Y/n took a step back as he avoided eye contact with Scott. Y/n didn’t even try to lie at this point. Y/n was ninety percent sure Scott wouldn’t tease him or tell anyone else that he liked him. “Because I like you” Y/n said but loud enough that Stiles heard him too. Scott was shocked. Y/n liked him. But did he like Y/n back? Scott didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But Scott didn’t even know what his feelings were. After a few minutes of silence. Y/n ran off down the halls of the school. He took that silence as rejection. 

Scott wanted to run after him but the bell rang before he could. After Scott didn’t move Stiles grabbed his shoulder and took Scott to his next class. But Scott couldn't pay attention for any of his other classes. He was too busy thinking. Scott wondered if Y/n was okay. He also wondered if he liked him back. When the final bell rang Scott slowly walked out of class and walked slowly out of school and walked slowly to Stiles jeep. 

Stiles was already there, waiting for his best friend. Once Scott got there he entered the jeep without saying a word neither did Stiles once he realized that Scott wouldn’t reply. But after a few minutes wondered what was wrong with his friend. “You good man,” Stiles asked. Scott’s head snapped to Stiles, like Stiles had scared him. Scott nodded, still not talking. 

“What are you thinking about?” Stiles asked. “What Y/n said” Scott said, speaking for the first time since Y/n said it. Stiles nodded. “Well” Stiles said, glancing at Scott for a minute. “Do you like him back?” Stiles asked. “I-i don’t know” Scott stuttered. Stiles sighed before his eyes widened. “Okay” he said looking at Scott. “Imagine kissing Allison” Scott was confused by what his friend said but he listened anyway. Scott closed his eyes and imagined kissing the girl. After he was done he opened his eyes. “How was it?” Stiles asked once Scott was done.

“Okay” Scott replied. It wasn’t good but it wasn’t bad either. Scott didn’t really feel anything when he imagined it. He didn’t get butterflies in his stomach like the way people told him. “Now imagine kissing “Y/n,” Stiles said. Scott closed his eyes again and imagined kissing Y/n. Scott imagined Y/n putting his hands around his waist as Scott put his hands around his shoulders and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Scott’s eyes shot open. Imagining kissing Y/n was a lot better than imagining kissing Allison. Scott even had butterflies in his stomach. Scott’s eyes widened. He likes Y/n. 

Stiles smirked as he looked at Scott, as if he could read his mind and know what he was thinking. “So” Stiles asked, still with a smirk on his face. “Great,” Scott said, a little breathless. Stiles laughed as he pulled up to Scott’s house. Scott got out of the car and was about to shut the door to the jeep before Stiles said something. “Make sure to tell him” the Stiles drove off. Without asking him Scott knew what Stiles was talking about. Scott needed to tell Y/n that he loved him at school tomorrow. Scott smiled at the thought. Scott entered his house with a smile that was brighter than the sun. 

As Scott walked into the school he looked for Y/n. After a few minutes Scott spotted Y/n at his locker. Scott walked up to Y/n and pulled him into the nearest supply closet. “Wha-” Y/n didn’t get to finish as Scott had placed his lips on Y/n’s. Y/n’s eyes widened. Scott was kissing him. Y/n quickly started to kiss Scott back as he grabbed his waist. The kiss wasn’t perfect. Neither y/n nor Scott had experience kissing, but to them it was perfect. Scott put his arms around Y/n’s neck as he played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Y/n was the one to pull away. Y/n looked into Scott’s eyes as Scott smiled. “I like you too,” Scott said. 

Now Y/n was the one who smiled. 

[lovelynim]

Attention seeker

Cardcaptor Sakura - Syaoran Li & Touya Kinomoto

A/N: Third and last comm of this batch for @wertzunge! Again, thank you for your patience and support, my dear client, ehe ~

Also, thank you for letting me write for such a fun duo! I couldn't help but tot feel a little nostalgic, hahah

Summary: Touya notices he has a contestant for Yukito's attention.

Word count: 1003 words

Silence filled the whole room as the two stared into each others’ narrowed eyes. If looks could kill, this would be the fiercest of battles. Meanwhile, Sakura and Yukito chuckled, nervously, and tried to find a way to ease the tension that took over the place.

“Why are you here?” Syaoran asked, nearly hissed. It was clear he had made no effort to conceal his disgust or annoyance.

Touya, on the other hand, was a tad more skilled in doing so. The snark and sarcasm in his words, however, remained as clear as daylight. “Oi, Yukito is my guest. You shouldn’t be talki-”

“I wasn’t talking about him,” the younger retorted, crossing his eyes in front of his eyes and puffing out his cheeks slightly. Of course the problem here wasn’t Yukito, but rather the one currently taking all his attention to himself.

That little brat, Touya thought. If it was Sakura acting like that, he wouldn’t think twice before smacking her head. “I live here, you-”

“Caham,” a soft, gentle (and fake) cough interrupted, deciding to stop this whole scene before it unfolded into something worse - as if it was possible to do so. “Hmm, I think we will have more people for dinner than we first anticipated,” Yukito commented casually, wearing his friendly smile on his lips as usual. “Sakura-chan, could you help me prepare some snacks?”

“U-uh? Me?” She blinked, pointing at herself in confusion.

“Yeah, why her?” Touya continued, tilting his head and, now, directing his concerned look towards his boyfriend. “You’re the guest, you shouldn’t be doing the cooking.”

Yukito chuckled, of course his little attempt would make it unnoticed. “Well, it seems you and Syaoran-kun have a lot to talk about, right? Besides, Sakura-chan wanted me to show a new recipe. Isn’t that right, Sakura-chan?” He winked, giving her a subtle hint.

“T-that’s right!” She nodded promptly, not even sure what Yukito meant with that, but feeling it would be better to agree than question it. “I will show where we keep the, um… t-the ingredients!”

Barely giving the other two time to question it, Yukito was already back into his feet, walking towards the kitchen, while Sakura fetched her apron. “Wait a bit, Li, I will be right back!”

“B-but, Sakura,” I don’t want to be alone with [him], he wanted to say, but she was already joining Yukito over the other side of the kitchen’s counter. Damn it. 

One couldn’t not deny that Yukito’s plan of making peace worked - the little banter was over, after all - but it took them barely a couple of seconds before silence sunk in again. “Tsk,” Touya groaned, resting his elbow on the armrest of the couch and leaning his head on his hand.

All he wanted was a peaceful, nice evening with Yukito, just that. And just when he thought Sakura would stop bothering them, her friend also began to fight for Yukito’s attention. Just his luck, Touya thought.

Having his eyes closed to drift into his thoughts, Touya failed to notice the moves around him. It was not until he felt a shift in the couch that he looked around again, only to find Syaoran sitting on the other end. In Yukito’s place, to be more precise. 

As if that wasn’t enough, he had a dumbfounded look on his face, his eyes glued to - of course - Yukito, following his every move in the kitchen. That’s it, Touya thought.

“You’ll scare him like that,” Touya muttered out loud, hiding his smirk behind his hand while avoiding eye contact.

The reaction came immediately with Syaoran nearly jumping off the couch, startled. “W-what? What do you mean? I’m just watching them!” He groaned, frowning.

“I’m not talking about that,” Touya continued, showing the boy his smirk before tapping the corner of his own lips, “you should see your face right now. So scary ~” he teased. “Here, let me help you!”

Closing the already short distance between them, Touya closed his hand around one of Syaoran’s ankles, pulling his leg into his lap and forcing the boy to lay on his side. “W-what are you dohoh- AHAhaha, n-no! LehEHEhet go!”

All Syaoran could see was his slipper being tossed over Touya’s shoulder before five fingers skittered across his socked sole. Thanks to their sizes’ difference, Touya could easily go from Syaoran’s heel up to his toes in a single swipe of his finger, making the whole process of tickling that brat into his place much easier. “Ah, that’s better. Don’t you think you should greet Yukito with a friendly smile instead of that ugly frown?”

“I dihihihdn’t!” Syaoran laughed, trying to pull his leg free from Touya’s grip, but lacking strength to do so. “AhahAHah, i-it tihihickles! StahAHAHap!”

“Eh? But Yukito is busy cooking,” Touya muttered, chuckling along with the other as he raked his fingers down Syaoran’s arch, scratching his foot and focusing the tickling on random spots of his sock. “He didn’t see you smiling, I can’t stop yet.” Touya mocked, his words barely audible over the boy’s laughter, but extremely effective in making Syaoran blush even harder in a matter of seconds.

If you asked him, Touya would promptly deny that he was moved out of jealousy. Him, feeling insecure and bothered because Sakura’s friend wouldn’t stop staring at his boyfriend? Never. Still, if that little brat wanted Yukito’s attention so bad, then Touya didn’t mind giving him a hand. 

A couple meters away, over the kitchen’s counter, Sakura glanced back at the couch, a bit stunned by the scene. Poor Syaoran seemed to be having a tough time dealing with her annoying big brother.

“Anything wrong, Sakura-chan?” Yukito hummed, barely minding the squeals and giggles coming from the other end of the room - he was too busy cutting the vegetables to do so, anyway.

“N-no, it’s just that they seem to be having fun,” Sakura nodded, turning back around. Hang in there, Li, she thought, I will come to rescue you once I finish this dish with Yukito!