#these are all rough concepts sorry

[m0rbs]

Hi the fixations finally collided in the stupidest way possible

They all go back into the dungeon to find Spock (he died) but when they get there he’s Weird

[okartichoke]

ace avian. that’s what we’re calling this 🗣️🗣️🗣️

please let me know if you have any thoughts or suggestions or input or anything! i’m happy to bounce ideas around (i'll post DL-6 someday soon i swear)

shoutout to the anon who sent in that ask bc i seriously fell in love with blue jay phoenix. SHOUTOUT TO TAKAHE PHOENIX TOO THO takahe phoenix, you will forever be in my heart and im glad you existed <3333,, (maybe in this au he’s got some loving adoptive takahe parents :3) (YKNOW WHAT YEAH that’s canon now)

but yeah, flight-avoidant jay phoenix still lends itself well to the common-man hardworking underdog vibe i want from him. speaking of flight-avoidant...

Phoenix's relationship with flying:

It's a bit complicated. Basically, Phoenix can fly, but he historically chooses not to. From the lack of any practice, he's an INCREDIBLY weak flier. (That hovering is really all he can manage)

For one, he's still afraid of heights. Can't help that. This fear means he was less inclined to practice flying, which made him a weaker flier. And being a weaker flier, in turn, made his fear of heights worse. And so on, in a loop. With flightless parents too (it's canon now it's canon), there's even less of a reason to learn to fly. At some point, not flying might've even become something he stuck with out of stubbornness lol, knowing Phoenix.

(I will soon be making a couple small world building posts, but) flying isn't necessary to get around in their society. Convenient, sure, but Phoenix realized he could make do without, and so he did. Phoenix, you icon. Slay. 💅💅

i know this probably isn't the popular take with wing AUs??, but Phoenix being flightless (or at least semi-flightless) sounded like a really fun take on the idea to me. His name is irony at its peak. I also look forward to exploring how other characters react to him not flying. The prosecutors are going to have so many cheap insult opportunities.

As I mentioned though, he still uses his wings a LOT, though. He's much more emotive with them than most people. His sarcastic inner-dialogue remarks are also betrayed by his wings lmao

I also imagine bird-folk never really invented bikes (riding would just be annoying with their wings, plus bikes aren't fast/efficient enough to outweigh just flying), so instead, Phoenix gets around on a little wing-powered scooter device (like scootaloo lol) (they're usually made for children who can't fly yet, but Phoenix still uses one)

finally, wow, stellar jay’s are quite literally just phoenix wright as a bird lmao? color scheme, hair, it’s uncanny. give it a pink tie and it just is Phoenix Wright, i used a blue jay since they’ve got a bit more striking wings but wow.

(ty again for the support and for reading my essay ! :3)

one more thing, but @kora-kat YES YES YES this. ^^^^ omg THIS. this is still true even though he's a jay now.

[clownprince]

how sick and twisted would i have to be to miss that lunatic?

batman: arkham city – end game #1 // batman: arkham city – harley quinn's revenge // batman: arkham city – end game #2-6 // batman: arkham knight – the riddler's gambit // batman: arkham knight #0 // batman: arkham knight

[aceghosts]

I Know You Feel Lost, But I'm Here To Wander With You

Summary: The week that Rooney’s family died is always the worst week of the year.

Rooney is having a bad week, the anniversary of their family death's looming over them. Luckily, they've got Yorinobu in their corner.

Title comes from Being As An Oceans' Find Our Way.

Rating: M

Warnings: PLEASE MIND THE WARNINGS FOR THIS ONE! This deals very explicitly with Rooney's grief and violent loss of their family. (Rooney is originally from Mass Effect with a Colonist background. This fic is adapting that background.) They are in a dark place, and thus, some of Rooney's thoughts, such as not wanting to exist, may be triggering. It also relieves Rooney's memories of that day and the traumatic things they saw, including watching someone die in their arms. Other warnings are depiction of violence, survivor's guilt, childhood trauma, discussions of dysfunctional childhoods (kind of), and drinking to cope. I think that covers everything, but if I need to tag for anything else, let me know.

Words: 5,188 words

Author's Note: Takes place before the events of CP2077, roughly six years before. I strongly encourage you to read Is This the End Or Is This the Beginning if you have not, as this fic directly references events in that fic.

Tagging (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @alexxmason, @sergeiravenov, @voidika,

@carlosoliveiraa, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @derelictheretic, @imogenkol, @theelderhazelnut,

@strangefable, @cassietrn, @direwombat, @cloudofbutterflies92

AO3

The week that Rooney’s family died is always the worst week of the year.

Rooney’s normally unflinching, steady demeanor turns brittle. Their mood is an ever-vicious cycle of grief looping into numbness with static in their brain, which eventually loops back into a grief that threatens to swallow them whole, pulling Rooney beneath its dark depths. Their sleep schedule goes to hell, ghosts haunting their dreams. Even in their waking hours, the ghosts haunt them, always in the corner of their mind. Nothing holds any interest for them, and they’re nauseous all the time, only able to pick at their food. The weight of a broken promise weighs heavily on their shoulders, and Rooney feels like they’re drowning underneath it all, exhausted from fighting the tide. All they want to do is hide in their room underneath blankets until the storm passes, when they finally grasp onto some sense of normality. Most years, Rooney powers through, only taking the day of their family’s death off. Their usual ritual is to spend the day alone, writing unsent letters to the ghosts they carry with them. 

Their grief takes on a different form this year, a more malevolent form. It hits harder, a dark, black cloud hanging over them. It’s so hard to breathe, to simply exist. Their limbs are tied down, each movement more difficult than the last. They feel so numb to it all, to the whole point of their existence. All Rooney wants to do is to stop existing, simply dissipate into nothing. They want to let the waves pull them under, to simply stop fighting and give in for once. Rooney wonders if this year is harder because they died and now know death intimately. Maybe, it’s the fact they’re stuck in this Arasaka facility, amongst enemies and isolated from their comrades. Maybe, it’s that small glimpse of what they saw between life and death. Maybe, it’s the fact that they know they will be denied death, doomed to walk this earth as long as someone else demands it. If they died now, Rooney knows Arasaka would pull them back, deny them the dignity of simply being able to die.

And then, there is Yorinobu, Rooney’s only friend in this lonely place. They avoid him, leaving sessions early and ducking into hiding places when he searches for them. He doesn’t need to see Rooney like this, doesn’t have to know about any of this. Rooney doesn’t want him to think less of them, if he doesn’t already know. They need to focus on getting information for him. They need to focus on their mission. And, perhaps selfishly, Rooney does not want Yorinobu to worry about them. No one should have to worry about them. The grief will pass like it always does, and Rooney will be fine...right?

“We’re done, Shepard,” Leah, one of the scientists, says, openly disappointed with their poor performance, a common theme this week, “Go to your next session.” Right, another combat test. Leah had just run through a short test of their quickhacking capabilities. Miles, another scientist, wanted to put Rooney through a combat test with their optical camouflage.

“I will escort them to their next session.” They slowly look over in Yorinobu’s direction, unaware he was there. Arms crossed over his chest, he smiles at them warmly, eyes only on Rooney.

Rooney stares at him blankly, unable to muster even the smallest smile. They should be excited to see Yorinobu, ready to dish out what they know to him. Instead, Rooney feels nothing, hollow, like every other day of this forsaken week. Leah, who must have only realized he was here as well, bows. Shooting a glare at Rooney for their perceived rudeness, she replies, “Yes, Yorinobu-Sama. Shepard would be honored to accompany you.”

Yorinobu’s smile drops, brow furrows in concern as Rooney lethargically walks toward him. Shit, they need to act normally. They fall into step with him as they leave the room, still mute. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Not nearly a convincing enough answer. “Shepard,” He starts, voice soft, “I know you would prefer to talk with one of your fellow soldiers, but I would like to listen if you need someone.”

Rooney feels a lump in their throat, swallowing it down. “I’m okay,” They assure him, gently brushing their hand against his, “I’m just tired.”

He eyes them suspiciously, eventually relenting. “I have some news that you may be interested in. Some of it I can tell you now, the rest later.” As he talks, Rooney tunes him out, his voice becoming background noise like everything else. Their brain is unable to concentrate, thinking sluggishly. Every once in a while, Rooney offers a nod or a small noise of acknowledgment to keep up the appearance they are listening. “Now, I know you must not be listening.”

Shaking their head as they stop in their tracks, Rooney apologizes, “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” Yorinobu stops beside them, placing his hand on their shoulder in concern. Guilt burns within Rooney. He shouldn’t worry about them; no one should. They’ll power through this, just like everyone expects them to.

“I-.”

“Shepard!” Fucking hell, all of the goddamn people it had to be her, Rooney’s least favorite person in the facility. Dr. Naomi Kimura, their psychologist, dredged up every single awful thing mentioned in their psych profile as if it would magically convince Rooney to talk. Instead, Rooney shut down, staring at their hands quietly until their time was up. And this week, she was at her worst, mentioning their family constantly, how hard it must have been, and how Rooney could talk to her. It took every inch of their being to resist punching her, especially when she mentioned Jack. How dare she even mention his name. Rooney prefers dying again to having to talk to Dr. Kimura about one of the worst days of their life. “How are you feeling today, Shepard?” she asks, catching up to the pair.

They look down, staring at their shoes, fists clenched tightly. “I think Shepard is tired,” Yorinobu intervenes, “You should give them space.”

Dr. Kimura sighs. “Yes. Of course, they would be tired,” her pitying voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and Rooney bites the inside of their cheek, fighting the urge to scream. “I wanted to make sure that my patient was feeling well, especially on the anniversary of something so tragic.”

“Something tragic?” Yorinobu echoes.

“Their family,” They start walking, unable to listen. Rooney won’t give her the satisfaction of them telling her to shove it. And they don’t know if they can stomach Yorinobu looking at them like…like…

“Excuse us, Dr. Kimura.” Yorinobu excuses himself, catching up to Rooney. “Where are you going? What is goi-?”

“I should go,” Rooney cuts him off, their voice robotic and detached, leaving a confused Yorinobu behind.

—

Later that evening, when Rooney reaches their room after an afternoon of tests, Yorinobu stands outside their room. In his hands, he has a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Would you like to talk? Or drink?” Yorinobu holds the bottle of whiskey up for Rooney. They soften, recognizing the name on the bottle. It’s the same brand, the one that led to their first real conversation. To Rooney becoming an informant, and eventually, they suppose, a friend. Their eyes water, a sob stuck in their throat. “Did-Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s complicated,” Rooney wipes at their eyes, clearing their throat, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He relaxes, his shoulders dropping. Yet, Yorinobu’s brow is furrowed, watching them carefully. “We should talk,” Rooney says, knowing that they owe Yorinobu the truth, “Can we go to your office?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around their shoulder. Rooney leans into him, resting their head on his shoulder. He feels so sturdy when they are so weak, like a small boat being tossed upon the waves in a storm.

—

Making themselves comfortable on the black leather couch in Yorinobu’s office, each with a glass of whiskey, Rooney takes a sip, needing to work up their courage. “I…um…” they start hesitantly, the words reluctant to leave their mouth.

Yorinobu slides an arm behind them, hand on their shoulder. “Take your time.”

“Right,” Rooney takes another sip, “Do you remember what I told you about my family?”

“You mentioned they died when you were sixteen,” a horrified look comes over him, quickly connecting the dots, “Is this the day they-?”

Rooney nods, confirming his suspicion as Yorinobu takes a sharp breath. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now how they’ve died.” Everyone knows. In the Militia, it was an open secret that being around Rooney was likely to get you killed. Unlucky Shepard. Go with them on a mission, and you won’t come back.

“I have not.” Wait, what? They look over at him in confusion. “I knew you would tell me on your own terms,” Yorinobu admits, “You are honest with me. I can be patient if you need me to be.”

Their guarded heart softens at his admission. “Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me.”

Silence washes over the both of them as Rooney thinks through their next words. They’re so used to people knowing them by their reputation. The Soldier who got shit done. The Sole Survivor. With Yorinobu, none of those expectations are placed upon them. Rooney is free to be themself. It is an oddly wonderful feeling; it is an oddly terrifying one. “I guess I could start at the beginning…”

He nods, allowing Rooney to continue. “I grew up in a small Biotechnica Company Town. My mom, Hannah Shepard, worked as the head of security.” They remember their mother, a former Militech officer, brave and fearless. Never backing down. “She was really brave, taught me how to shoot my first gun too. Taught me that it would be my responsibility to look after Jack.” From a young age, their mom had taught them how to shoot, simply stating: ONE DAY, YOU’LL NEED TO PROTECT YOUR BROTHER. A duty that Rooney solemnly took. A duty they failed. “My dad, Aiden Shepard, was an agricultural engineer. He was so kind, always encouraging my brother and me.” Rooney always remembers their dad as a soft, kind man. He had a green thumb, teaching Rooney all he knew about plants and farming. Their favorite memories of him are sitting with their dad on the porch bench on summer evenings, both reading together in silence, yet enjoying each other’s company.

“I had a younger brother, Jack, and a cousin, Danny, my age. Jack was so bright and so sweet. Didn’t have a mean bone in his body. I’m sure if he were still alive, he would have done something great.” In their mind, Jack smiles brightly at them, fiddling with some machine he was working on. His enthusiasm was infectious. Jack deserved to be alive; he should be alive. Not Rooney. “Danny was always getting into trouble, but it was trouble I always wanted to be a part of.” They remember the way he would grin mischievously, ready to drag Rooney and Jack into some of his schemes. Despite the trouble the trio would get into, Rooney wouldn’t trade any of those memories for the world.

“Home was gorgeous.” Rooney still feels the sun on their face, the warm breeze flowing through their hair. They hear the rustle of the wheat as the breeze flows through it. “The skies were always a soft blue with a gentle breeze blowing through the wheat. It was like paradise.” How naive Rooney was. They should have appreciated it more, enjoyed what little time they had there. Now, home was a memory, a place they could never return to.

 "I…understand.” His soft utterance surprises them. Yorinobu sips his whiskey. “When I think of my childhood, I think about how wonderful it was sometimes, how happy I used to be…”

“How you wish you could go back,” They finish, “But you can’t, you can never go back.”

“Yes,” the understanding look in his eyes makes Rooney feel a little less lonely, “After what my father had shown me, the veil over my eyes had been lifted. It was a lie, a lie to make me complacent, dependent. He used that lie to mold me into the son he thought I should be. Obedient, Deferential. He had destroyed the home I had known. Your situation is different.”

Rooney sips their whiskey. “Yeah,” their voice cracks, “Home doesn’t exist anymore, wiped off the map, all the people gone.” They pause, their throat tight. “Except for me.” Cursed to live; cursed to survive.

“Shepard,” His thumb rubs comfortingly against the bare skin of their freckled shoulder, “You do not have to tell me this. I will respect-.”

“No, I want to,” They cut him off, inhaling a deep breath, “It’s a little raw considering…”

“I do not want to push if it makes you feel unwell.”

“You’re not pushing; you’re the first one who hasn’t pushed me to talk about this,” Their mind flashes back to Dr. Kimura, always pushing and prodding, “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”   

“I am glad I can be here for you.”

Rooney gives him a watery smile, dropping it a second later. “The first thing I remember about this day is the night before, especially the fight that I had with my mom.” Yorinobu raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “We were fighting a lot. I wanted to join a Corp, Militech specifically, to see the world, and she thought I was naive, that I was going to make a huge mistake.”

“Militech?” Yorinobu blurts out, surprised.

They nod. “Imagine how differently things would have turned out if I still joined Militech afterwards.”

“We would not have met.”

“Yeah, I know how Militech and Arasaka feel about each other.” Rooney looks down at their whiskey glass. “I can’t forget what I told my mom that night. I told her that hated her.” I HATE YOU SO MUCH, the awful words reverberate around in their head.  “I told her that I hated her for trying to keep me in that stupid town, that I wasn’t going to be stuck there forever, miserable like she was.” YOU CAN’T KEEP ME HERE. I WON’T BE STUCK HERE IN THIS TOWN AND END UP A MISERABLE BITCH LIKE YOU. Their hands shake, tears welling in their eyes. Rooney would give anything to take those words back, to reverse the hands of time, and tell their mom one last time that they love her. They love her so much. Rooney would tell her that they were naive and stupid, understanding what Hannah was trying to protect them from. “What a pair we make, huh? You with Saburo, and me with my mom.”

Yorinobu smiles. “It is natural for children to rebel, to want differently than the path their parents planned for them. You are not wrong for wanting that.”

“I suppose so.” Rooney isn’t sure if they were wrong for wanting, but they should have spoken to their mom differently. “The next day, a group of bandits attacked our town. I’m not sure how they managed it. We fended off attacks before with little damage, but this was different.” It was slaughter, an act of cruel and senseless violence. “Jack, Danny, and I were hanging out in the fields. We were up in an oak tree, watching the clouds as we talked. Then, we saw the smoke. We went to check it out.” Rooney still remembers the tree bark scraping against their palms, barely registering the sting as they fling themself from the tree. “We met Mom at the edge of the field. She handed me a pistol and told me to protect Jack and Danny. The last thing she ever told me was for us to hide and for me to be brave.” ROONEY, TAKE THEM AND HIDE. BE BRAVE FOR ME. The last time Rooney sees their mom is with her back turned to the three as she charges into town, red ponytail with strands of gray swinging in the wind. The pistol is heavy in Rooney’s hands, the full burden of responsibility weighing down on them. “Do you ever feel like you have to protect Hanako?”

“Yes. As children, Hanako and I were close. We only had each other, and I knew I needed to be there for her. I would protect her from any trouble. Even now, as adults, despite our distance, I still want to protect her, free her from my father’s influence. Hanako should be allowed to determine her own path, not a puppet of my father.” Yorinobu takes a sip of his whiskey, conflicting emotions on his face. “Now, Hanako feels she must protect me by playing mediator. In her eyes, all would be right if I became the son my father wanted me to be. If I were to be someone else.”

“You shouldn’t be,” He raises an eyebrow as they awkwardly clarify, “You shouldn’t have to be someone else. I like you as you are.” Yorinobu looks taken aback as they backpedal, “I mean-.”

“Shepard, I understand,” Yorinobu replies cutting them off, “I like you as you are too.”

“Thank you.” Another question comes to them. “What about Kei?” In all their time at the facility, Rooney heard about Kei the least. Possibly because he had been dead since 2023. But they wondered about Yorinobu and his relationship.

“Kei and I were not close. As children, Hanako and I rarely saw him, a distant figure in both our lives. Kei always thought of himself as the dutiful older son, the protector of Arasaka’s legacy. When I left,” Yorinobu’s voice turns bitter, “He saw it as his responsibility to strike me down for daring to defy the family, for not falling into line. Kei paid the ultimate price for his foolishness. I stand, still alive, while he is dead.”   

“I’m sorry.”

Yorinobu shakes his head. “It is not your fault. One day, my father will pay for Kei’s death. Continue.”

“I suggested that we should hide. There was a storm shelter beneath the farmhouse where no one would be able to find us. But-.” I CAN’T LEAVE MY MOM AND DAD. WE HAVE TO FIND THEM. They remember how terrified Danny looked, a sixteen-year-old who just wanted his parents. “Danny wanted us to find his parents. He wouldn’t listen to me or Jack.” Danny’s glare is fierce, and he is defiant at Rooney’s suggestion. He storms away with Jack quickly following behind as he tries to calm Danny. “He couldn’t be stopped.” Rooney finishes their glass, reaching out for the bottle of whiskey, and pouring another.

“So, we head to town.” The moment the three teenagers reach town, they all look at each other, knowing they’ve fucked up. Rooney remembers the thick smell of smoke and dead bodies, nearly choking on it. They hold the pistol with the safety off, ready to fire like their mom taught them to. Yet, at the thought of shooting a real person, Rooney’s hands shake, the pistol wobbling. “Danny thought we needed to head to the center of town.” COME ON, MY PARENTS SHOULD BE AT THE CITY HALL. “I try to argue with him, but he takes off running and rounds the corner. And then, I hear it.”

Yorinobu’s mouth drops in horror as a sick feeling rises in their stomach. The gunshots echo in their ears, deafening, as Rooney sprints towards the alley. Danny is on the ground, red pooling beneath him as a bandit stands over him. Rooney raises the pistol, pulling the trigger. The first shot hits the bandit’s shoulder. The second one hits him in the chest. Later, when Rooney learns to shoot a sniper rifle in the militia, they promise to never miss, to always make sure that their bullet hits the target. They will not let another innocent pay with their life. Rooney sips their glass, before continuing, “Jack and I grab Danny,” Danny’s green t-shirt is soaked in blood, only groaning as the two pull him off the ground, “The local town doctor is only two blocks away. If anyone can help Danny, it’s her.” It is only later that Rooney will find out that this was a fool’s errand, that the local doctor is already dead.

“Jack and I manage to get Danny to the clinic. We think we’ve made it, that the three of us are going to be safe.” It feels like a journey of a thousand miles, but relief washes over Rooney as the clinic door slides open. They’re safe; Jack, Danny, and Rooney are going to make it. HEY! Rooney turns as a Bandit turns to face them, raising his rifle at the trio. “As we enter the clinic, another bandit finds us.” Rooney raises the gun, preparing to fire. Jack, blue eyes wide, shoves Rooney and Danny through the doorway. JACK! Shots ring out, deafening as Rooney screams, a desperate plea for someone, anyone, to help. Jack slumps to the ground as Rooney lets Danny go. They raise their pistol, flicking the safety off as they unload the pistol. Rooney empties the pistol into the bandit, each shot ringing loudly in their ears. When the pistol finally clicks empty, long after the bandit has fallen to the ground, Rooney drops it, the pistol clattering loudly to the ground. “He shoots Jack. I’m able to stop the bandit, but it’s already too late.”

“I grab Jack and Danny, dragging them into the clinic. I find an empty room, somewhere we can hide.” Grabbing Jack and Danny, Rooney pulls them into the clinic, a herculean effort fueled by pure adrenaline. They find an empty room, hiding with Jack and Danny in a dark corner. Danny’s eyes are unfocused, his mouth slightly open. Rooney doesn’t need to feel his pulse to know that he is dead. They turn to Jack, who reaches out for his older sibling. “Jack grabs onto me. I beg for him to let me go, but all he wants is his older sibling. His grip loosens…” He wraps his arms around Rooney’s neck tightly, clinging to them as he bleeds out in their arms. Rooney holds him, alternating between telling Jack that they love him (JACK, I LOVE YOU! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!) and begging him to let go so they can help him (YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO! I’LL BE RIGHT BACK WITH HELP!).  Eventually, his grip loosens, Rooney silently sobbing as their brother dies. In the Unification War, when they hold dying young men, trying to comfort them in their last moments, they will always remind Rooney of Jack. They will always be Jack, terrified in their final moments, begging for some sort of comfort, that everything will be okay. “And my brother is dead.”

Tears stream down their face as Rooney grips their whiskey tightly. “I hide in the clinic for what seems like an eternity.” They wait until the screaming dies down, and even then, Rooney doesn’t leave, afraid the bandits will be waiting for them. After the screaming has been dead for a long time, Rooney makes their way out of the clinic, looking upon the destruction of their town.  Every corpse is a familiar face, someone they’ve known their whole life. “Eventually, Nomads, who regularly traded with us and did odd jobs for Biotechnica, pass by, and…” Well, the rest is history.

“Rooney, I’m-I’m so sorry…” Yorinobu seems to be at a loss for words, unsurprising. No one ever seems to know what to say, and Rooney can’t blame them.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.” They finish off the glass, pouring themself another. Yorinobu tilts his head in confusion, perhaps concerned by their harsh, detached tone. “It’s the bandits fault for destroying my town. It’s my fault that Jack and Danny are dead, that I couldn’t protect them.”

Yorinobu sits straight up, removing his hand from their shoulder. Rooney misses his touch, a sole comfort, perhaps more than they deserve. He places his glass down on the table. Yorinobu grabs their glass, placing it down beside his. Rooney doesn’t fight him, unable to look at him, only looking down at their hands. Yorinobu takes their hands in his, his touch desperate. “You cannot blame yourself. You were sixteen.”             

“I can blame myself,” They look at him, meeting his eyes, “It was my job to protect Jack. He’s my younger brother. He needed me, and I failed him. Danny, too.” After their town, Rooney swore that they would protect others from suffering the same fate.

He looks slightly horrified, and Rooney wonders if he is thinking of himself and Hanako, perhaps seeing a mirror image of Jack in Hanako. Yorinobu releases their hands, only to cup their face, wiping away the tears. “It was not your fault.” He stresses every word, like a general giving a command to a stubborn soldier. On some level, Rooney knows this is irrational. Their psych in the militia, a no-nonsense woman whom Rooney felt safe talking to, used to tell them the same thing. So did their fellow soldiers in their support group. But Rooney couldn’t let it go, not when it had driven them their whole life. Not when their family had rejected them for it. Their tears fall faster, a sob escaping from them as Yorinobu’s eyes widen in surprise. “Something else troubles you.”

“Yeah.”

“Please tell me.”

“Remember our first conversation, when I told you to leave something alone?”

Confusion briefly crosses his face before the realization dawns. “You looked upset when I asked,” They hear a touch of concern in his voice, “Did it involve your family?”

“Yes,” the vision of their family around the dining room table is startlingly clear in their mind, “I saw my family.”

“You…saw them?”

“Don’t know what it was. Might have been a hallucination; might have been my mind playing a trick on me, but I saw them.” Rooney’s voice trembles, “I got to go home, see them all again, and they...they…” Their throat tightens, the words too difficult to speak. “They wouldn’t let me stay.”

“Rooney,” Yorinobu exhales their name, distraught as he wipes away more tears.

“I failed to protect Jack and Danny, and I wasn’t allowed to come home,” Rooney swallows back a sob, “I wasn’t good enough so I couldn’t stay.”

Yorinobu lets go of their face, pulling Rooney into his lap. They straddle his waist, trying to openly sob as they lay their hands on his chest. “Rooney,” His right hand lays on the back of their neck, “You did not fail. You were sixteen. No one could have asked more of you.” Rooney doesn’t believe him; they don’t know if they ever will. This guilt will gnaw at Rooney for the rest of their life until they take their final breath. If Rooney is ever allowed to take one. “Believe me,” Yorinobu pleads sincerely, “Please.”

Yorinobu’s earnestness cracks the stone walls around their heart. They collapse into his chest, burying their face in the crook of his neck. Rooney tightly grips the fabric of his black and magenta silk shirt, holding onto him like an overboard passenger holds onto a raft, adrift in the ocean. A sob escapes them, and Yorinobu’s hand comes to their back, rubbing circles in the black fabric of their tank top. His other hand rests on their thigh, thumb stroking along the seam of the black fabric. “If you need to, cry.”

They can’t fully break down, not for a lack of trying. Instead, Rooney holds him tightly, crying softly as Yorinobu comforts them. His voice is soothing, a tether to reality for them.

—

Eventually, Rooney finds they have no more tears left to cry. They’re exhausted, worn down to the bone. “Thank you.” Their voice feels raw and scratchy, their throat tight.

“Do you feel better?” He asks, watching them with concern. “Please be honest with me.”

Honesty is the least of what he deserves; Yorinobu deserves so much from them. “No,” They’re not sure if they will ever be okay, “I don’t know if I will be, but you being here….”

Yorinobu releases the breath he was holding. “Do you need-?”

They shake their head. “I just want to sleep.”

“Allow me to take you to your room.” Rooney gets up off his lap, untangling themself from Yorinobu. He follows them off the couch, slinging an arm around their shoulder.

They slide their arm around his waist, resting their head on his shoulder. Together, the pair walk silently down the Arasaka halls alone. Rooney feels a swell of affection towards him. There was no reason for him to be this kind to them, and yet…he was. Perhaps Rooney and Yorinobu were kindred souls, both alone in a hostile place looking for someone who would see them as they are.

When the pair reaches Rooney’s room, Yorinobu asks, “Will you be fine if you are left alone tonight?” Maybe. Rooney isn’t going to hurt themself, but the nightmares worry them. Sometimes, they relive the scenes over and over, a gruesome horror movie on repeat. Their silence is enough to answer his question. “I am staying.”

Rooney frowns. “You don’t need to stay.” They won’t be more of a burden on him.

“I want to stay with you,” Yorinobu opens the door, “Please let me.”

A small spark of humor arises in them. “I didn’t know you were eager to get into my bed.”

Yorinobu laughs, slightly surprised. “You must be feeling better.”

“Somewhat,” They smile at him shyly, “Thanks to you.”

He looks smug, clearly proud of himself. “To bed.”

A few minutes later, the duo crawl into bed with Rooney on the right and Yorinobu on the left. The tiny bed is meant for one person, but Rooney and Yorinobu make it work, spooning close together. Rooney’s metal arm wraps around his chest, Yorinobu’s hand resting on top of their hand. They are pressed tight against his back, cuddling him. “Are you comfortable?” He asks, his tone a little unsure. “Would you prefer I hold you?”

“No. I feel better holding you, unless you want to change positions.”

“I like this,” Yorinobu replies softly, his voice sending a warm and tingly feeling through them.

“Good.” The darkness and silence of the room descend upon them. A short while later, as they doze off, Rooney hears a soft snore from Yorinobu. They bite back a soft laugh, striking them as slightly cute. Rooney whispers, careful not to wake him, “Thank you for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you today. It’s the first time I haven’t felt alone on this day. I don’t know if I can ever return the favor.” They pause briefly. “But I promise I will try to be there for you in any way you need me to be.”

Closing their eyes, Rooney allows themself to fall asleep, comfortable and safe with Yorinobu in their arms.

[pekoeboo]

ugh. some thoughts.

really been trying to find the joy in drawing/writing again and honestly it's been such a challenge. friends have told me it's most likely depression that's making it hard to feel motivated and tbh they're probably right.

hoping to get back into being creative in the way I Want to be at some point tho. I miss it. there's still so much with my stories and characters that I haven't been able to share or explain and I wish I knew how without it feeling like this daunting, impossible task.

I don't know when I'll get around to actually sharing art again (or writing, if ever). was hoping that I'd manage to get some of my mental and physical issues in check recently for just long enough to get back into the swing of being creative, but that hasn't seemed to work. everything feels bad, both artistically and physically. I'm struggling to keep up with the frantic pace at which my brain comes up with story concepts and intriguing character interactions, even tho everything in me wishes I could turn it into tangible artistic expression so I can get it out of my head and share it. it used to be easy. I don't know why it's not now.

I'm just . tired, I guess.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

thin skinned (skinsuit'd staffbot reader x Sun/Moon angst, no comfort)

“Y- you don’t understand,” your voice wavered and stuttered with static, your voice box protesting so much use, “what it. Was like, for me.”

“What is there to POSSIBLY understand??” Sun’s voice came through this time, high and nearly shrill with indignation, revulsion, outrage. “What could possibly have happened to you to excuse this!”

You shut your eyes, feeling your shoulders rattle. You wanted to shout, or throw something. Was this anger? It was hot, and it hurt, and it made every part of you tense. Was this what it was to be angry? Or... was this another kind of fear? You abruptly turned around to face them properly, trying hard to look them in the eye. Your hands were in fists, you realized- both the one that was bare, your brittle, metallic skeleton grinding against itself slightly, and the one still wearing a glove. The metal of your stripped fingers cut into one another, making the joints ache.

“You-“ your voice broke, and you had to wait a spirit second before the voice would work again, “you can’t understand anything about how- how scared I was-s!”

You grabbed at the neck of the coat you were wearing, feeling suffocated by it. Your voice box warbled and strained, letting out a staticky cough.

“You didn’t have to be afraid of b-being dismantled. You were loved. A-A-And I? I was nothing.”

Unable to stand the look they were giving you any longer, you whipped around and left the room, escaping to the fire exit. You grabbed fistfuls of your hood and pulled it down over your face, feeling the fabric tear slightly. You sat heavily, leaning against the railing and listening to the rain pitter-patter against the old metal staircase. For the first time in a long time, you found yourself wishing you didn't feel anything. You hated this, this hot, scalding feeling that made your fingers curl, that made you want to- to hit them, and blame them, and shout that it was all their fault, all their fault, ALL THEIR FAULT,

You pressed the thoughts down, down, down, tried to stifle them as much as you were able. You pulled yourself up by the cold, wet railing. Your legs rattled with the movement- when did you get so... tired? You shuffled back into your apartment. You didn't look at them as you walked across the room to flip the light switch. It was dark near instantly; your eyes had to adjust. The night-light plugged in next to the workbench they were sat on glowed, warm and yellow. You turned your back to them, hesitated.

"I'm, Going. To charge for the night. I'll s-see you, in the morning."

There was a long pause, then you started your walk to the closet you had converted into a sort-of bedroom for yourself- it was where you kept your clothes, and your make-shift charging station was there, anyway. It was the last sliver of comfort you had in this place right now.

You had crossed the room and grabbed the doorknob when they spoke.

"Goodnight."

For a second you considered not answering, in letting them sit and fester in your cold, angry silence. But you were tired. You didn't want to keep this up. You felt your shoulders sag.

"G-g-good night."

"Sleep tight," said Sun's voice. It was tiny and kind of mumbly, as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud. You felt a chuckle wobble out of you.

"D-d-d-don't let th-the bed bugs-s bite."

[goingghostcomic]

Does the fact that DP now has an official canon continuation affect you while working on the comic

Like does the new canon stuff influence your own vision or has your vision for your reboot remained the same since you started?

Sorry it's taken so long to answer so I'll match with a long answer and update in my process, I'm so sorry lol

But no, an official canon continuation will not stop me from making the comic. And while I do own the new comic and plan on getting all the future official DP merch I can get my hands on, it wont effect my story in the slightest because I haven't read it. Plus I've already written my story and I'm very happy with it. I will someday read the new comic but not anytime soon, I'm just so happy it exists and that it's in my hands either way.

What might stop me (for a little bit at least) is a full on rebooted series, not a continuation/revival because the fandom has been around so long and we've all influenced each other in big or little ways. And since we're all playing in the same sandbox there's naturally some overlap. But this started as a pitch bible/proof of concept for a full on reboot of my own and if there's an active reboot airing I'd be very sad it wasn't mine (so silly I know lol but it's true).

What has stopped me is the a back and forth issue I have on the comic in general. I have found a style of comic I enjoy making, but I have gotten in my own head about it being stiff and bad. I know practice make progress and I'm getting more confident about it and also considering making it into a fic with art and slowly adapting it into a comic just so I can have some thing to post and put out there. But my iPad is dying and outside of sketches on paper I haven't been able to write or draw to the extent I'd like. I've been saving for a new one for a while now and about half way there but life happens and it takes a toll on my savings. So I'm trying to decide what's the best way to proceed and I have a lot of options and that's also a little overwhelming, which sounds silly typing out. But it's easy for me to feel guilt every time I try to commit to one game plan because all my best options rely on me getting a new iPad

[devotion-between-the-wheat]

I don't really condone dm.c5's contrived fanservice/nudity via the demon battery plot point, but it does give me easy reasons for why my si would be in just v's coat for a minute + give me another v shirtless moment.

[xenomorphicdna]

Doodles from several days ago.

Mouse and Fish

Cold weather scugs from cold weather lands

[wyllsravengard]

wow just gave myself the most painful and abysmal brainrot about my own ocs wow wow

[oflgtfol]

quastion. if you were a high schooler looking to take the least stressful lab science would you taking physics or chemistry

i think this is a simpler question of which do you enjoy more? for me i would choose physics over chemistry any day but that’s because i hate chemistry and so all chem labs i took were boring and stressful, and i love physics so the labs were fun and interesting

however if both subjects are equally uninteresting to you, then i do recommend physics! maybe i'm biased, but i think even personal interest aside, my high school chem labs were definitely more involved and complicated than my high school physics labs. physics experiments in lower level classes such as high school (and even introductory college physics to some extent) are pretty simple to set up and conduct, the main understanding comes from doing the math afterwards to get any sort of result out of it, whereas chem was more like, actually mixing stuff and then observing

not only were physics labs easier, simpler, and more engaging, but each lab also was unique and distinct from each other. i really can only recall the same basic setup of like, mixing stuff together as the idea behind every single chem lab i did. the exact way you mixed them together differed of course but that was the main idea

meanwhile some examples of physics labs i recall from high school include:

projectile motion: most likely you will roll a marble down a ramp off the edge of the lab table, measure the horizontal and vertical distances it traveled, maybe time it also or use a photogate to measure the velocity, or something, and then use the kinematic equations to find any missing variables, and then through all that you will probably be to told to find the value of g, what is known as the acceleration due to gravity, aka the rate at which things fall.

circular motion: you may be using a FLYING PIG to demonstrate circular motion!!! figuring out the tension in the string, the idea of centripetal force, centripetal acceleration, rates of revolution, etc.

harmonic motion: push some slinkies around, demonstrate hooke's law and spring force, calculation of frequency and oscillation, maybe observing resonant frequencies and resonant modes

standing waves: using some sort of low tech version of a standing wave generator to observe, well, standing waves. the high school version of this lab i believe was very surface level and was mostly just drawing how different standing waves looked, counting the nodes and antinodes, and predicting it for different frequencies. i think the teacher even got us a giant rope and we had to recreate the lower frequency standing waves together as a class by just oscillating it ourselves

all around, in my experience at least, high school physics labs are so much more involved and engaging than chem ever was. and while the math involved in the physics class was more daunting than chem, it was such a fun and interactive class. and again i may be biased but i think, if both chem and physics are uninteresting to you but you need to choose one anyway, i think having a basic background in physics is a lot more useful and goes a lot further than a basic background in chem does. i truly believe that knowing stuff about the kinematic equations, circular motion, free body diagrams, harmonic motion, etc etc will enrich your life further and change the way you see the world around you. high school physics will not make you an expert but it can certainly make observing patterns in life and how the natural world operates a lot more fun and exciting

[kenobihater]

trying to effectively synthesize my thoughts about boiadeiros in disco elysium into a meta post rn yet the neurons seem to be on strike atm

[arts-and-drafts]

I decided to start compiling speech patterns and such for the Hermits I watch the most, because being a fic writer is hard sometimes 😭 then I thought “why not share it here?”

so here’s my very rough analysis of my most viewed Hermits, this is just what I’ve managed to gather so please don’t call me out for what I’m missing

-

Scar

Rarely stutters in normal speech. Maybe pauses if he’s started a sentence and doesn’t know where it’s going, but he doesn’t tend to trail off unless something interrupts his train of thought

Stutters a LOT when he’s startled. Also makes ‘hoo!’ noises repeatedly before he finds his words

Lays on the charm THICK when he’s trying to convince someone over literally anything; compliments their looks, their handiwork, and then pitches his proposition in smooth segue. Not one to entertain haggling though (however he DOES do a ‘look if you’ll pay full price I’ll throw in xyz’ thing). King of upselling even the most mundane things.

His tone is cheerful most of the time, no matter what he’s saying. He’ll actually often say very disturbing things with a light voice (ex. when discussing how to retaliate ie “what should we do about him?” “we could kill him! :)”)

Builds and locations somehow are always capitalized in his voice?? Like he says them differently. I can’t really explain it (when he talks about Aqua Town or Scarland or The Big Dig)

Literally has an evil laugh when he thinks of a way to prank someone or mess with people

Hums in thought quite often, and uses “huh!” quite often when confused or finding out something new (Mostly with redstone)

His farewell is almost always “Byeeee, have a great time!” even if the conversation he left was not a pleasant one. I’m almost certain he does this in tense situations just to get under other people’s skin and really push how unbothered he is

Doesn’t tend to insult people, the farthest he’ll take it is backhanded compliments

That said he is not afraid to outright threaten (“I will murder them.”)

References media a lot, both for concepts for builds and in speech (ie his greeting “Well hello there!” is from Star Wars)

Number one exclamation is “Sweet Baby Jellie!”

(More under the cut!)

Grian

Cold opens, both in videos and conversations (rarely says “hello, how are you, etc” when encountering someone, but he does say farewells/‘thank you’s)

Likes to sneak up on people and scare them if he realizes they haven’t noticed him yet, usually does so by getting real close and then yelling (“HEY!”/“HI!”/“WHAT’S THAT?”)

Uses the name of whoever he’s talking to pretty often while speaking to them (“Well, Mumbo, you never know”/“So, Scar, as you can see here-“), same goes for often addressing his audience (“you all”/“you lot”/“you guys”)

Usually pretty focused (when he wants to be) but oftentimes takes a minute to laugh at things he notices in the natural environment (An accidental face in a build, a mob in a strange place, etc)

Takes the lead in a conversation if nobody is the clear leader, but generally only speaks when spoken to if someone else has risen to that spot

Clarifies instructions after something is explained, both to his viewers and to anyone he’s grouped up with (most often seen in the Life Series)

Uses “Pardon?!”/“Beg your pardon?!” most often when surprised or startled (he’s very British), also sometimes uses “Sorry??”

Things are way more funny to him when he’s tired

Deadpans a lot in conversation ie “why not do xyz?” “Well because we’ll horrifically die 😑“

This man is allergic to committing to the bit unless he’s the one that initiated it

Not one to sugarcoat (“how is it?” “well to be honest it’s miserable”)

Number one exclamation is “WHAT?!” (though he often uses “oh my GOODNESS” quite a bit)

Mumbo

The start of nearly every episode is almost a pitch, does the same when bringing up an idea to others (“I have this idea”/“I was thinking”/“I noticed” etc)

Often laughs a little at himself when he speaks

Also often brings up how inexperienced/unqualified he thinks he is with literally any task he’s doing

Gets very distracted with the smallest things

Uses similes a lot when trying to describe a concept (“I’m thinking a this-type thing”/“Something like a [xyz]”/“Imagine like a [thing]”)

His voice gets higher when he’s startled or panicking

A very vocal thinker, which makes sense because he’s a MC Youtuber, but he also just. Seems to think out loud regardless

Comments a lot on the feel of things (“Oh this feels menacing”/“This looks like it’d mess you up”/“This makes it feel very intimidating”), often with building

Extremely modest. However will celebrate when he does something right in redstone/building (“YES! Oh my days, that took forever”)

Once and a while will have a rare banter moment with people he’s comfortable with (ie teasing and making fun)

Related to above, he gets very giggly when he’s hanging out with people he’s familiar with (Grian and Scar most often, but also Iskall)

Number one exclamation is “What on earth?!”

Joel

Greets people most often with “How you doing [name]?”/“How are ya [name]?”

He’s very northern. He often leaves out words in his sentences bc that’s just the way his dialect is (“What you doin’?” vs “What are you doing?”)

Says his th’s like f’s (“somefing”/“nofing”/“finking”) ((Stress also does this))

His jokes/teasing are very deadpan (“I made you this extra thing, because you’re trash at this”)

Actually gives gifts of resources very often, and always leaves it with a little note and signs his name

His voice gets higher pitched when he’s defensive/being extremely cheeky but other than that his tone rarely changes

This man. Flirts so much. If any other person initiates even the slightest of flirty banter he takes that and dials it to eleven I cannot believe this is a straight married man sometimes

Joel commits to the bit 100% of the time (slightly related to above), unless of course it’s jokes about his height

Makes a point to compliment himself if he gets the chance (words most often used are “handsome” “strong” and “humble”, as well as comments about his muscles and physique)

Insults his enemies diminutively (“look at you down there, tiny idiot”/“You’re wrong and also weak”) ((seen most often in Empires SMP)

His most often used insult is “idiot”

When he’s flustered/frustrated he uses “bloody” a lot (ie “bloody heck” or “this bloody thing” (loves to toe the PG line), also uses “blooming” (“bloomin’ heck”)

Most often used exclamation is also “WHAT?!”

Bdubs

Opens videos very jovially, talks almost like a radio host

Breaks down his builds down to the block, spends a lot of time discussing his block pallet choices and giving tips while he builds

Uses the affirmation “sure enough” a lot, and often addresses himself as “Ol’ Bdubs”

Talks affectionately about other hermits often (“[name], the absolute sweetheart, left me some materials”, “[name], you angel!”)

Adding to above, “angel” or “sweet angel” seems to be his most often used affectionate terms

Switches on a dime, though, if he gets offended (which of course causes others to poke fun at him even more)

Calls mobs “stupid” a lot when they don’t do what he wants (but takes it back if he says it to one of his horses ex. “Come here, stupid—wonderful, I mean, beautiful”)

THIS MAN IS THE #1 HORSE ENJOYER. He gets a horse first thing every season and rides it everywhere, and they’re always a focal point of his theme or builds in some regard

Pauses whatever he’s doing to sleep as soon as it’s possible, and gets very antsy if he can’t do it for some reason (“One moment, time to shreep!”)

Related to above, EVERYONE messes with him if he’s trying to sleep in their presence ie breaking his bed over and over, and he gets increasingly more frustrated when it happens

Rarely is soft spoken or quiet, he projects his voice and uses a lot of emphasis in his tone

Either straight up screams (and peaks the mic 😭) if he’s startled or scared, or yells “oh my GOODNESS!!”

Number one exclamation is “HEY!”

[ozzgin]

The wonderful wizard Ozz. I have had this concept stuck in my head like a worm!

Could you imagine a Darling escaping from their Yan, not to run but just to feel the rain on their skin? I've been consuming this prompt like a heroin addict and I can't seem to get enough!

If I were to expand your prompt, I quite like the idea of a Yandere that can't really go full yandere because Reader is just too willing. He loves yandere content and can very much relate, but none of the escalations can happen if, well, the object of his obsessive affection doesn't protest in the first place. Is it too far fetched from what you'd imagined? Let me elaborate:

Yandere! Male x Willing! Reader

AKA: When you want to be a Yandere, but your Darling unfortunately cooperates.

The Yandere has been stalking Darling for months. Journal entries, walls plastered with photos (and the occasional creepshots), recordings. He just can't get enough of his Darling. He loves everything about you and can barely function throughout the day, fantasizing about your life together.

Enough is enough and he finally decides to make you his. He's been consuming media of similar tropes, with obsessed men pleading for a chance and having to force their way in because of rejection and fear. He's prepared for everything. Your tears, your trembling voice, your hands pushing him away. He finds you, approaches you and confesses his feelings, knuckles white as he grips his fists in anticipation. Your eyes widen for a moment, before narrowing in a smile. "I had no idea! Sure, I'll go out with you." Huh? Wait. This wasn't...this wasn't in the plan. Somehow he'd been certain you'd refuse. He must've mumbled the last part out loud, because you respond with "Why would I say no?"

A very good point indeed. You will change your mind, however, once you learn the extent of his love. You're holding his hand and following along as he takes you to his place, completely and utterly unaware of what you're about to witness. He can't truly be your boyfriend if he has to hide his very nature, after all. You might be disgusted, frightened, offended. He can already hear your screams, demanding explanations. It's all out of love. "It's okay if you don't understand", he mumbles to himself, watching your frozen body as you gaze into his room. You take a couple of steps towards the nearest wall, tracing the hundreds of images with your fingers. "Wow. You never mentioned being into photography", you remark, impressed. "It's like an exhibition! But...you might have to work on your angles", you blurt out, a little embarrassed, pointing to one of the creepshots. "This isn't very flattering. Did you take it in a hurry? It makes my legs look disproportionate." He can only stare, taken aback. "S-sorry" is all he manages.

Okay, but don't imagine your life will continue as usual. You've only seen a glimpse of his adoration. Now that you're officially dating, he cannot allow anyone else to have access to you. You have to understand, he cannot protect you properly if you're not under his watch all the time. As much as he cherishes you, he will have to be rough if needed. That's what he tells himself as he shoves the required tools in the trunk of his car, speeding towards your apartment. Once there, he fidgets on the sofa, considering his speech. You seem to be just as uneasy - perhaps you're predicting what's to come? - casting your eyes down and giving short answers. "I think you should move in with me." He states solemnly. You gasp and throw a hand over your mouth, and tears quickly well in the corner of your eyes. "How did you...how did you know?" You say between sobs. Huh? "I didn't want to burden you with my problems, seeing as we just started dating...but my landlord won't renew the lease. I was so scared I'd be homeless."

He clicks his tongue. This isn't very yandere, more like the average couple experience. You bring the final moving box to his car, fitting it in the trunk. "By the way, what's with all the rope?" you ask. "Just move it aside", he sighs. How can he explain it? He's been training, sweating and bleeding for a marathon and right before the whistle, they handed him the first prize. His muscles are aching for the sprint that never happened. Of course he's grateful to have you at last, but somehow he feels like he hasn't proven his dedication properly. You just don't get it, do you? How sickening his love is for you.

As the days pass, he eases into his role of...how does one even call it? Pseudo-captor? When you found his journal, you blushed and confessed how no one before him put this amount of effort into knowing you. All the male contacts from your phone vanishing? It was about time you cleaned up your acquaintances and it was nice of him to help. The AirTags he's hidden in your bags and pockets? You appreciate his safety concerns. Nowadays, with all these perverts freely walking the streets, you can never be too sure.

One morning he wakes up to an empty bed. He jolts up, dazed. Could it be his wish was finally granted? You must've gotten tired of him and tried to escape. Oh, silly little Darling love. You should've known there's no more walking out once you said yes. He checks his phone and pounces out, ready for the hunt. As he sprints along the street, he finds you suspiciously close to his home. Not very smart of you to...what are you even doing? Your hands are raised up, fingers fanned out under the pouring rain. You notice his presence and turn to face him with a wide, childish grin. "I haven't done this since I was a child. When was the last time you felt the rain on your skin?" Only now it occurs to him he's been running in this downpour and his clothes are soaked. He was too focused on finding you.

"I thought you escaped", he almost whispers. "Escape? From what?" You tilt your head in confusion. He places his cold, large hands over your cheeks. "Do you comprehend I'm very much obsessed with you? I'm not joking around. You're never, ever leaving me. You're stuck here forever. I mean it. I really do. I'd rather kill you with my own hands than let you go. Because I love you." You take a moment to admire the intricate patterns of his irises, pupils dilated in a spiraling madness. By the end of his erratic oration, he's panting and digging his nails into your skin.

"I know."

[aakeysmash]

Tell me you love me

Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.

Word count: 2512.

Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).

People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.

He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.

It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.

He doesn’t show it, though.

He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?

But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.

And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?

You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.

But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.

He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.

You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”

He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.

“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.

“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.

You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”

“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.

You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.

You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.

He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.

“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.

When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.

He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.

I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.

You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.

Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.

He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.

You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?

I feel like you don’t care about me.

If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?

Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?

That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.

But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.

A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.

Instead it's Yuji, his brother.

Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?

Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.

He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?

He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.

"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.

Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?

"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.

You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."

Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.

And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.

You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.

"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.

"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.

And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.

"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.

You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.

"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.

"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.

"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.

"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.

"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.

"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.

"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."

Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.

[motherforthefamicom]

sky canyon from sonic advance 2 is probably like the funniest level in any sonic game just cuz of how cruel it is like. its all over a massive bottomless pit. in a game where the whole gameplay gimmick is going insanely fucking fast to the point where its hard to actually stop and engage with parts of the level design. along with this stupid cloud effect constantly at the bottom of the screen no matter how high in the level you are making it almost impossible to tell wether ur gonna fall to ur doom or on more level geometry anytime you go down. and also has the lower path (which is absurdly easy to fall into by most levels standards) of the first act requiring you to do a very specific action the game has never required you to do before (or after) to Not Die and progress through the level (this is Right at the start of the act too) and to top if all off has probably the most bullshit boss design ever . and if you ever game over at any point (which is pretty fucking likely to happen) throughout the zone during ur first playthrough youd have to do it all over