#this is organized crime btw

[gardenerian]

No, but it could be so much worse. Ian and Mickey having a barbeque with their daughter because they just scream girl dads, and their little girl getting excited for the salad.

"I want daddy's tomatoes!" with the biggest grin on her face.

Or, Ian calling her his little sunflower.

his.........his little....,.,,, his little sunflower......... hoooookay. you know that feeling of like. absolute calm. total clarity. utter peace... that comes right before you absolutely lose your entire shit? i am feeling this right now. my brain is a still pond. smooth, nary a ripple. but...... little sunflower........ i will soon implode and become nothing but confetti. that's the cutest shit i have ever heard in my LIFE. lil cherub all excited to eat some tomatoes cOOL. mickey will be like wtf someone get this kid some pringles STAT askjfh i am TICKLED BEYOND BELIEF.

[kelluinox]

Listening to westerners is becoming increasingly like listening to vatniks and it's frightening and depressing

[ficoandleo]

Hi guys, what do you think of me Romeo headcanons ?

All the best <3

The word 'headcanon' makes Romeo look to Leo for clarification. He's not exactly a fandom person and the combination of words is foreign to him.

"Headcanon is exactly what it sounds like. 'Canon,' but only in your head. Not the biblical kind of canon."

"So it's just a bunch of ideas that somebody--who probably doesn't know you to begin with!--gets in their head about you?" Romeo's phone gives a little buzz, a message from Leo allowing him to open your post. He already looks annoyed at the thought. The last thing he wants is more people spreading stupid, awful rumors about him.

"Well they're usually about fictional characters and not real people, but. Yeah, basically!" It's so funny how they think they're real people.

As a clarification from the writer, most anything Romeo says is 'right' or 'wrong' is merely in application to himself, here. It isn't meant to be applicable to all presentations of Romeo, only my own, on this blog. And even those are subject to change. Your headcanons are always valid, and I, personally, like most of them quite a lot! But you're not here for me!

"This is quite the list. . . ." Romeo crosses his legs and sits back in his chair, making himself comfortable. This is going to take a while. Leo makes himself comfortable, fiddling with his phone.

"I'll leave most of that to you. They're about you, after all. But no worries, I'll provide some witty commentary of my own if I see fit~!"

"Saying that I started at Darkwick 'a couple of years' after I turned 17. . .I've been here almost three years now, just how old do you think I am!?"

"The correct answer is~~~ don't ask💔! It's rude to ask someone pretty their age, okay?"

"Well, I didn't come to Japan before I reached adulthood, I can say that much. I lived in Italy until. . .until it didn't seem safe to continue to do so. Around four years ago." Ha. He wished he could have just come to Tokyo peacefully. . . .

"My parents were quite busy, and I won't deny that I wasn't as close to my father as my mother or nonna. I think most people are--it seems fairly common that fathers aren't the most. . .available for their own children." He doesn't know very many people who wouldn't say they're closer to their mother than their father. Maybe that was just the company he kept, though. "Expected to act as an heir, yes, but I negotiated a bit more freedom through my own skill and efforts. Although I don't think we have the same perspective of what I was supposed to be inheriting."

He briefly recalls how Taiga called him naive shortly after they met. How even recently he said he was still as naive as that day.

". . .but maybe even you know better than I did in this case." Every day he plays mafia. Sometimes he wonders how close he was to 'playing' mafia without ever having to leave the comfort of his own home.

"I mean, your family owned that super famous fashion brand. Not sure what else you'd be inheriting." Leo chimed, half joking. As if it weren't obvious what Romeo could have been in store for in another life--possibly even in this one.

"Ah. But, yes, three siblings and the languages are right. I understand little bits of other regional languages here and there--only what you pick up doing business and singing in other regions. I understand English and Japanese far better. Isn't that strange?"

Romeo frowns as he reads the part about his father, about gambling. He thinks of Taiga calling him naive and greedy. Like your old man. You gotta be more careful with your chips, Lulu! Of parroting words--he never really thought about it, but they may have been nearly the exact same ones--that his father had yelled at. . .his mother? His sister? His nonna? No, his father would never yell at her--

You're being ridiculous. He doesn't have a problem.

Even if he acknowledged it, what good would it do? His father was still in charge of everything--

He partially skips that one. "I was expected to take over for my father eventually. But our brand name was taken from me--from us. And everything went with it after that. I run the casino because that BTH won't do his own damn job and run the business he started. I don't need a reason to hate gambling--it's designed to make you keep trying and losing even when you're already at a loss. What is there to like about it if you aren't in the house position that's meant to see those profits?"

Even in the house position, he doesn't much like gambling. And he'd rather not admit that it might be more personal than that.

"And the drugs makes a profit, same as any other contraband. I wouldn't touch them if I weren't selling them. I don't smoke, either. I don't touch any of that unhealthy garbage. Do you know what that crap does to your body!?" It's a wonder Jin and Haku are in the conditions they're in with how much they smoke. Or, in Haku's case, smoked--he heard he's trying to quit. Good luck with that. "I'll admit to drinking, but I try and keep it to meals and celebrations." And moments of extreme stress. "The drinks Mickey makes are made from anomalous ingredients--all of the effects but none of the risks of actual alcohol. So it doesn't count."

But if that weren't an option he would be drinking real alcohol every night. He may not smoke, but Rui is currently, literally, the only thing keeping him from becoming a full blown alcoholic. . .no pressure or anything, Rui.

He grimaces at the mention of Catholicism or faith at all. "Is anybody back home really religious? Be honest, no one really practiced any of that BS." Well, some people did, especially older people. But it was more tradition and custom than actual belief that kept a crucifix hanging around his neck for most of his life. "I made a deal with a demon. That isn't a sin God would forgive, even if He were good. Even if I believed, what choice would I have but to put my faith elsewhere?"

The first thing he threw away himself after making that deal was the cross he'd worn around his neck. But he couldn't bring himself to blow it up. That felt. . .a little too dangerous, even for something he didn't feel like he really believed in. He'd simply thrown it as far as he could(much further than he could have thrown it a few hours prior) and left it behind.

After all, if a demon came to him and granted him great power, perhaps there was a God too? But by then it was too late to worry. If God saw fit to strike him down he would.

"I don't think most people like school, let alone Catholic school. And I assure you that any attempts to bully me wouldn't have needed my family or their connections to get involved. But they respected me and my family, so if anyone had any SAC about my middle name, they were smart enough to hold their tongues.

". . .as for keeping contact with my family, I don't know if any of my direct family--nonna included--are still alive. And they don't know that about me, either. As far as anybody back home knows the eldest son of the Lucci brand and his personal bodyguard have been missing for several years." Although he has quite the online presence, so if anybody wanted to reach out to him it's far from impossible. He still wears his name with pride.

"My indirect family, with whom I share my last name. . .I never spoke much to them, despite that they provided our security at home. I don't think they cared for me much when I pretty much had Taiga replace their men." But you really can't beat one guy who can beat up two or three guys at once and tells you how pretty he thinks you are all the time. "So I can't say I speak to any of them anymore. Even through letters. I CBA to find out if anyone's alright anyway."

It's probably paranoia. But if your family was attacked over unpaid debts that were out of your control you would probably be paranoid too. If he reached out or started some sort of investigation, someone could get hurt. What if it were him!

"It is virtually impossible to find good, authentic Italian food in Tokyo. Especially if you want something specific or regional--the available ingredients aren't the same either. We had people who cooked for us back home--anyone with money like ours would have, I'm sure--but I don't think that would stop anybody's grandmother as long as she had working hands."

He resists the urge to smile. "But she taught me how to sew more than she taught me how to cook. It's a wonder we got away with that--I had never liked my father simply having others make my designs without any input beyond sketches and notes. I wanted more involvement so that everything would be perfect. . .but that isn't what you're asking about. Nobody cooks like your mother--and even less people your grandmother."

Leo makes a contemplative noise and looks thoughtful about this. Sho is very good at replicating tastes and recipes based off of description. . .and getting good ingredients imported. And he loves making food from different cultures--'Highway To Home' was called that for a reason. For Leo, no one's made better food than Sho, even either of their mothers. It probably wouldn't be the same. . .but he likes the idea of Romeo owing him a favor and giving Sho a challenge, and files the thought away for later.

"Kurossa, which one is pansexual again?"

"Huh? Oh, it's 'where there's a hole, there's a goal,' more or less."

"I thought that was bisexual."

"These days it's pretty much the same thing depending on who you ask."

". . .Which one are you?"

"Awww, do you wanna be like me, Ro-Ro?"

Romeo smirks back at him, tilting his head. "What can I say, you have good taste."

"Honestly, I don't really care. The pan flag's colors look like printer ink, so I just say I'm bi because I don't want the ugly ass neon flag? It's so bright, those colors can look good but you've really gotta put effort in for it. The bi flag colors are a little more muted? The aro colors kinda suck too though."

Romeo appears to be looking up the flags and scrunching up his face. "They're workable colors. I think the fact that they're plain bars is part of what makes them look so unappealing. . . ." But then he realizes he's getting off track and goes back to the headcanon list. "Well, in any case, I favor men as a. . .noticeable pattern. But I've been attracted to others before, so I would say you're probably right. But my interest in fashion is from my family business, and my interest in self care is from both my desire to maintain personal perfection and an upbringing in the fashion business. Top tier clothing wouldn't be tolerated on a face and body that don't compliment it. It would be a waste."

"Like, still put the effort in obviously, even if you can't get it perfect. Some effort is a million times better than no effort." Leo adds, rolling over on the couch.

"Of course. Not everyone can afford the price of true beauty, and not everyone is patient enough for it even if they can. But that doesn't mean you don't do anything at all. They say you can't polish a turd but hikaru dorodango still manages to make some aesthetically pleasing work of simple mud.

"Speaking of brands, while I certainly favor Italian brands," especially his own family's when he can find their older pieces, "I don't shop them exclusively. Primarily, yes, but I'm not going to refuse good and aesthetically appealing products out of some sense of national pride.

"There's a bidet in my private office bathroom and my bedroom's attached bathroom. I've had both almost entirely remodeled, although fortunately, as this is a luxury cruise ship, there wasn't much to be adjusted.

"I'm not interested in sports." Which is to say you're correct in that he acts like he isn't interested, but he does follow it. He's a little too busy to be watching football games on the other side of the planet all that often, but he does keep up. "And I don't hate being called Romeo. I'm used to the mispronunciation by now, although I'm really not certain when it arose considering Japanese is a phonetic language and I've never written it ro-mi-o. Like I've said before, I don't like being called Vice-Captain because it makes me sound off-brand! So I gave myself my own title that they can use instead--there is no doubt that no one here but me is Fico! The only people who have to refer to me as such are my underlings, the casino staff, and the underlings of other houses!"

"I use 'Romi-sama' and 'Ro-Ro' for him and other people use different nicknames too. Maybe that makes it seem like he doesn't like his name since he lets us call him nicknames?"

"How is that I don't refuse friendly nicknames a sign that I dislike my name, as opposed to that the company I keep tends to be people who are much too friendly for their own good!? Most of them use 'Romi' in some way anyway!"

"I'm just speculating! You are so loud all the time."

"And, finally. Of course I have things imported for me from outside of Japan. If I can afford to do it, why wouldn't I?" Especially his fancy €12 bottles of sparkling water!? "It's annoyingly expensive but I've worked out a deal with the mail room. If I can't find something here I'll simply bring it here. I won't compromise my quality of life."

Romeo sighs in exhaustion. Why did he do all of that? He could have just said no, really! But instead you made him give a verbal essay on his own existence. You did it, not me. "There. Do you feel sufficiently validated or invalidated now?

[swallowerofdharma]

[terrahlee-cup]

Audio Log #5:

-[Begin Audio]-

???: Well, luckily for my ability to stay sane I have a day off.

???: I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stand this place.

???: Of course, I’m also not sure what will happen to me if I try to leave.

???: I’m pretty damn sure this project is not supposed to exist.

[Sigh]

???: I’ll just… have to do what I can for these kids while I’m here.

???: I think I’m going to start using nicknames for them— it doesn’t feel right calling them by numbers.

???: These are children, dammit.

[Pause]

???: Anyway, from oldest to youngest there’s Pyro, Lapis, Citrine, and Toura.

???: Didn’t expect my old obsession with rocks to come in handy at this job, but here we are.

???: Really they should have been given names from the get-go, but I don’t think anyone at that lab cares.

???: I don’t get it, I really don’t.

???: Why are humans capable of being so cruel?

???: I’m going to try and focus on something else for a while.

???: I’ll have enough time to be upset at work.

-[End Audio]-

[ragingstillness]

McClane: will people please stop making out around me?

[alexturner]

in my jigzaw puzzle era and god i forgot how much i love the organization process

[musical-chick-13]

Maybe I’ve just been Thinking Too Much About the Concept of Justice due to...currently watching....something (Idon’twannatalkaboutit)..........but GENUINELY the way most of y’all talk about the death penalty and about ANYONE who decides to go through law school for ANY reason is terrifying.

[comradecowplant]

the CANADIAN i reblogged this from should worry more about her own blue fascist imperial running dog PM instead of finger wagging the minority of usamericans who are trying to maintain the controversial position of "having principles".

lemme ignore the hysterical phrasings & ask a few simple grounded questions: which administration & party was in power during this unprecedented wave of anti-lgbtq legislation?

which admin & party maintained and rehired trump-era immigration policy and ICE officials?

which admin & party oversees the hoards of jackbooted thugs beating anti-racist protesters in 2020, gave cops more money, and again supports jackbooted thugs beating anti-genocide protesters in 2024?

which admin & party claims to be allies of women and had multiple opportunities throughout the DECADES of Roe to codify it and yet didn't?

which admin & party, claiming to be the "pro-science" party, approved one of the biggest oil projects in U.S. history and walked back already-lacking Covid policy that has, to this day, effectively barred disabled people from much of public life?

which admin & party refuses to use the weight of the federal government to fight back against states enacting barbaric legislation (akin to how it was used to enforce integration during the civil rights movement) because they're obsessed with the self-aggrandizing image of "flying high" & politeness instead of keeping their word and actually using the power of government to improve lives?

We all know the answer. The christofascism is already here. "project 2025" is the same fascist wetdream reactionaries have had for decades, and the sense of heightened urgency is just the same shit different day. Democrats could stop it in their tracks if they wanted, but the dangling threat is what they rely on for gathering their base rather than having effective progressive policies. There is a bigger world than Orange Man Bad and Republicans Demons/Democrats Angels delusion that blueanon liberals rev themselves into a tizzy over rather than accepting the uncomfortable truth that blue & red are two wings of the same U.S.American fascist bird. That actually building a just society will require harder work than blindly voting once every 4 years for Good party instead of Bad (and starts with unlearning years of imperial indoctrination which, among many myths, asserts that the only form of valid political action happens at the voting box.)

Final things to get straight: so we cannot do precious democracy (aka biden is a failure so i will not give him my vote. which is the basics of the neoliberal democratic process, correct?) in order to prevent a HYPOTHETICAL loss of precious precious democracy next presidency? will we be able to do real democracy next election if we pwomise to vote for biden again, or will there conveniently be another "election of a lifetime"? How many "elections of our lifetime" should be tolerated if we're to maintain the guise of democracy?

If trump can TRULY become a dictator, that seems much more a condemnation of the political system that would allow him access to power, no? Who is going to be enforcing the fascism? Will the military be purged of anyone not a Trump supporter? Who will enforce that? Because as much as I hate handing it to anything U.S. military related, the last trump administration made it quite clear that most military personnel are status quo followers, which means there is not the concerted manpower eager & willing to do coup for Trump like he pretends to believe. Pretty sure last time the civilian "masses" of Trump-supporting christofascist foot soldiers tried to do anything, it was the most pathetic failcoup in history (and they even had the cops on their side!)

I'll even play the game for a minute & consider what Biden could do to wiggle the win. But given that he keeps going on television & spreading racist atrocity porn lies about Palestinian resistance, equates anti-genocide protesters to 1930s nazi germany, has DNC cronies routinely insult gen z voters by calling them dumb self-centered sheeple, called immigrants "illegals", and just 2 days ago claimed that Palestinians have an ancient desires to murder jews (& that's just from the top of my head from the last few months!) I'd say his shot of winning has never looked worse. Did us "moral purists" cause him to say those things? How much overt racism should be tolerated if your candidate seeks to maintain the guise of a progressive?

Are you prepared to look someone in the eye who has lost family from U.S. foreign policy that Joe "If there wasn't an israel we'd have to create an israel to protect u.s. interests in the region" Biden actively defends & maintains, who isn't voting for Biden because of these REAL MATERIAL TRAGEDIES they've experienced (instead hypothetical tragedies tomorrow that conveniently matter more because they affect you personally), and doesn't see the point in voting due to the duel genocide support of both parties, and tell that person that actually THEY'RE the one supporting fascism? Are you for real??

TLDR: Biden barely won the first time, and he has only lost voters from his parade of failures & supporting of genocide. If someone personally wants to vote for him & buys the delusion that it will matter, so what, no one cares, just do it quietly if you care to maintain a scrap of dignity. But blaming those who care about people & struggles other than their own is not helping your cause. When trump wins-- and believe me, i am not looking forward to it, if for no other reason than if blueanon's dystopia fetish becomes real I too will be thrown into the fagtrannydyke camps with people like OP & will have to hear their incessant whining about being right about it, which is worse torture than anything a nazi could come up with-- there will be no one to blame but BIDEN.

Gonna need yall to stop putting Biden is Just As Bad propaganda on my dash. Had to unfollow someone because I don’t want to a start a fight with them over it, but I’m about to bite the next person who puts that shit in front of me.

If you don’t like Biden, vote in your god damn local and mid term elections for third party or further left candidates so that we get better democratic candidates for future elections. But this one is already fucking decided, and I’m NOT ending up under a Trump led dictatorship because yall value protecting your personal sense of moral purity over the collective good. Whether it offends your personal morals to vote for Biden is IRRELEVANT in the face of the alternative.

This isn’t a lesser of two evils situation. One guy sucks. The other guy is LITERALLY PLANNING TO OVERTHROW OUR DEMOCRACY AND INSTALL HIMSELF AS A PUTIN STYLE DICTATOR.

PLEASE look up Project 2025 and stop acting like abstaining is some kind of personal ethical decision!

[cl0udshepherd]

vent in tags (stress from my job)

[thexfilesseason4]

my favorite x files episodes are when mulder and scully join a taskforce of Normal FBI Agents on a Normal FBI Operation like busting an organized crime ring or smth. Like imagine you're a normal bureaucrat at your federal cop job and there's two insanely attractive people whispering to each other in the corner of the conference room and you're like "hey who's that" and your coworker tells you "oh that's the Bigfoot division" and you're like "but we're busting an organized crime ring" and then the tall guy speaks up and is like "oh yeah this crime ring is being led by bigfoot. btw"

[wainswright]

I haven’t finished it but Gomorrah by Saviano is supposed to be good for one bit of organized crime. May be pop-ish.

Please recommend me reliable books, documentaries, pieces of journalism etc. that you know of about:

organized crime

semi-organized crime i.e. street gangs and the like

terrorists

guerrilla insurgencies

and similar things.

I'm very interested understanding illegitimate (i.e. not conducted by a government) organized violence and how it functions, but naturally it's hard to find good information.

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

[4giorno]

okay ive calmed down now after sleeping but still the kids parents should give yoimiya a very angry talking to and never let her near them again

[dnangelic]

' i wasnt ?! ' so he hadn't somehow ... accidentally started to bully and tease the other ? sakura-san didn't hate it ? hate HIM ? ... or did he ?! either way , the boy would be happy to acquiesce to the other's wishes .

' i won't !! i --- ' er , well , it might have ended up a little difficult in the future , and no doubt the other might have still somehow been able to guess or tell exactly what sort of now-banned phrase he was thinking , but that was an issue for him --- future him to worry about ! ( as long as he never let the words pass his lips , it would have been fine , right ?! he'd still be innocent ! sort of --- ! )

' k-kotoha ... ? ' the boy's gaze runs about the shop's interior , and then , anxiously , he sits himself back down . ' i --- don't know who that is ... ' a beat . ' is it y-your mom ? '

because even if sakura seemed suuuuper tough and everything , his mom might have still packed him big lunches and kept him well fed , right ? ( it made more sense than someone being perpetually fed by a friend , as if sakura was some kind of stray cat or dog pawing out of habit into a shop . )

even as the subject changes daisuke's hand still clutches at his chest . ( getting all nervous and feeling it pound like this was ... ) ' u-uh , um ... ' c-crap , he's so rattled , he can't even think of a good lie ... !

' n-no , i'm just ... visiting --- ' cards hidden away into his shirt , a target in the region that he would be , soon enough , stealing ... his mother and grandfather had made arrangements for a hotel stay , and the rest --- at least for now , was meant to be up to him .

' for , um --- t-tourism ... ? i mean , um , i --- i heard there's some ... interesting stuff , ' ( hell if he knows what , really ! ) ' d-do you know what i mean ... ? ' he's not sure that sakura was exactly the treasure-hunting type , but even then ...

( i'm sorry , sakura-san --- ! )

if the other was actually a local , then he'd have to gather all the information he could from this moment ! ' d-does everyone know each other here or something ? i didn't think it --- t-the town could be that small ... '

What the—!!!!

The fact that they’re both having outbursts throws Haruka off immediately; wait a minute, wait a fuckin’ minute, that wasn’t supposed to happen. That wasn’t supposed to happen!!!!

“And who the hell said you were mean?!” Because where had that idea come from? He was just weird! Weird didn’t mean rude! He’s just makin’ himself weirder at this damn point, considering he follows it up with calling it wrong! Clearly someone’s getting lost in translation here, because this does not normally happen!

“Just—Just don’t call it cute again, okay!?” That’s what started this!! That can’t go forgotten!! “And don’t get me anything! Kotoha, she—”

Ah, wait, is he supposed to tell people his meals get comped? It’s kind of a Furin thing, which the town knows about, but it’s also kinda just a him thing, which the town doesn’t know about; he’s got so little money, and after the first few times of not paying and he’d finally asked because How the hell does she run a café with people not paying was a reasonable damn thing to wonder about a business, she’d told him it was something most business had in place here. But could he tell some random that? She never said he couldn’t, but...

...it probably just ain’t worth the hassle, though, is what he decides on, because it kinda isn’t (“Hey, dude, you don’t have to pay for me because every restaurant in this town either gives me meals free of charge or at a heavy discount because I’m part of a team that makes sure they don’t ever have to worry about crime�� isn’t the most normal conversation starter, even he knows that!) and he just doesn’t feel like explaining it, so he may as well not. But damn!! One minute, he’s freaking out, and the next he’s offering to buy Haruka food and drink?! Things have seriously gotten outta hand!

“Just—!” Damn if it didn’t take everything in him to not stand right up with him, but Haruka is really trying to not let his fighting instincts get the better of him still. It’s why the first word comes out so loud, but he awkwardly cuts himself off to try and lower it; that’ll help things. Surely. Probably. It’s got to, right??

“Just si’down, alright? Just sit and let’s chill out and not yell anymore...”

His voice tapers off, because of course it does, and he can hear a certain person in his ear making a sarcastic comment about how he’s handled that “so well, Sakura-kun, that was so natural,” but he can go to hell with everything else! Haruka’s never claimed to be good at any of this.

He really wishes he were good at any of this.

“...Niwa Daisuke, huh?” Please take the change in subject. Please just take it. “‘s a name I don’t recognize. You...just move here, or...?”

(Please kill him now.)

[petitesmafia]

just thinking about the whole "what if Chuuya joined the detective agency along with Dazai?" and imagine him getting roped into Dazai's game of making everyone guess what their former jobs were (especially Kunikida)

Kunikida, watching skk bicker: btw did you guys know each other before this? Chuuya: unfortunately yes Dazai (at the same time): thankfully no Kunikida: ??? skk: Chuuya: ...sorry i meant no? Dazai (at the same time): just kidding! yes we did skk: Kunikida: ?????

Kunikida: were you guys students? Dazai: no Kunikida: factory workers? Dazai: no Kunikida: you guys weren't like. criminals of some sort right? Dazai: nope Chuuya, whipping his head to look at Dazai: ???????

Kunikida, praising them after a mission: good work today! btw how did you know PM's routes so well? Chuuya: tbh that's bc we used to w— Dazai: —ander around that area :) Chuuya: ??? Dazai: well Chuuya did. bc he was a bad bad boy who liked to hang out after dark in shady places and wouldn't listen to me when i told him the mafia is a very scaryyy place with very scaryyy people~ Chuuya: ?????

Kunikida: so you guys used to work together? what'd you guys do? any notable projects? Chuuya, thinking about him and Dazai destroying an entire enemy organization overnight at age 16: Chuuya, thinking about various other crimes they've committed: Chuuya, nervously sweating: um. well,,