#who's up for some existential dread | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mariacallous · 8 months

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“Did they really decapitate babies?” my 14-year-old daughter asked me yesterday. She was pointing to a text message on her phone from a friend. “They’re saying they found Jewish babies killed, some burnt, some decapitated.” And I froze. Not because I didn’t know what to say—though in truth I didn’t know what to say—but because for a moment I forgot what century I was in. All of the assumptions I had made as a Jewish father, even one who had grown up, as I did, with the Holocaust just a few decades past, were suddenly no longer relevant. Had I adequately prepared her for the reality of Jewish death, what every shtetl child for centuries would have known intimately? Later in the day, she asked if, for safety’s sake, she should take off the necklace she loves that her grandparents had given her and that has her name written out in Hebrew script.

The attack by Hamas on Israeli civilians last Saturday broke something in me. I had always resisted victimhood. It felt abhorrent, self-pitying to me in a world that seemed far away from the Inquisition and Babi Yar—especially in the United States, where I live and where polls repeatedly tell me that Jews are more beloved than any other religious group. I wasn’t blind to anti-Semitism and the ways it had recently become deadlier, or to the existential dread that my family in Israel felt every time terrorists blew up a bus or café—it’s a story whose sorrows have punctuated my entire life. But I refused to embrace that ironically comforting mantra, “They will always want to kill us.” I hated what this tacitly expressed, that if they always want to kill us, then we owe them, the world, nothing. I deplore the occupation for both the misery it has inflicted on generations of Palestinians and the way it corrodes Israeli society; when settlers in the West Bank have been attacked, it has pained me, but I have also felt anger that they are even there. In short, I wasn’t locked into the worldview of my survivor grandparents and I felt superior for it.

But something in me did break. As I was driving on Tuesday, I heard a long interview on the BBC with Shir Golan, a 22-year-old woman who had survived the attack at the music festival where more than 250 people were killed, her voice sounding just like one of my young Israeli cousins. She described, barely able to catch her breath, how the shooting had started and how she’d begun to run. She’d found a wooded area and tried to hide. “I got really into the ground,” she said. “I put the bushes on me.” Covered with dirt and leaves, she’d waited. A group of terrorists had shown up and called for anyone hiding to come out. From her spot under the earth, she’d seen three young people, whom she called “children,” emerge. “I didn’t go out because I was scared. But there were three children next to me who got out. And then they shot them. One after one after one. And they fell down, and that I saw. I saw the children fall down. And all that I did was pray. I prayed to my god to save me.”

I pulled my car over because my own hands were shaking as I listened. She then described waiting, hidden in the dirt under bushes for hours, until she saw the terrorists begin to light the forest on fire. “I didn’t know what to do. Because if I’m staying there, I’m just burnt to death. But if I go out they are going to kill me.” She crawled over to where she saw dead bodies and lay on top of them, but the heat soon approached, so she found more bushes to hide in until she could run again. Burnt bodies were everywhere, and Shir looked for her friends but couldn’t find them, couldn’t even see the faces of those killed because they were so badly burned. “I felt like I was in hell.” She finally escaped in a car.

Her story flung me back to my grandparents’ stories. My grandmother hid in a hole for a year in the Polish countryside, also under dirt, also scared. My grandfather spent months in Majdanek, a death camp, and saw bodies pile up in exactly this way. Stories are still emerging of families burnt alive, of children forced to watch their parents killed before their eyes, of bodies desecrated. How was this taking place last Saturday?

But these stories aren’t what broke me. What did was the distance between what was happening in my head and what was happening outside of it. The people on “my side” are supposed to care about human suffering, whether it’s in the detention camps of Xinjiang or in Darfur. They are supposed to recognize the common humanity of people in need, that a child in distress is first a child in distress regardless of country or background. But I quickly saw that many of those on the left who I thought shared these values with me could see what had happened only through established categories of colonized and colonizer, evil Israeli and righteous Palestinian—templates made of concrete. The break was caused by this enormous disconnect. I was in a world of Jewish suffering that they couldn’t see because Jewish suffering simply didn’t fit anywhere for them.

The callousness was expressed in so many ways. There were those tweets that did not hide their disregard for Jewish life—“what did y’all think decolonization meant? vibes? papers? essays? Losers”—or the one that described the rampage as a ��glorious thing to wake up to.” There was the statement by more than two dozen Harvard student groups asserting, in those first hours in which we saw children and women and old people massacred, that “the Israeli regime” was “entirely responsible for all unfolding violence.” And then there were the less explicit posts that nevertheless made clear through pseudo-intellectual word salads that Israel got what it deserved: “a near-century’s pulverized overtures toward ethnic realization, of groping for a medium of existential latitude—these things culminate in drastic actions in need of no apologia.” I hate to extrapolate from social media—it is a place that twists every utterance into a performance for others. But I also felt this callousness in the real world, in a Times Square celebratory protest promoted by the New York City chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America, at which one speaker talked of supporting Palestinians using “any means necessary” to retake the land “from the river to the sea,” as a number of placards declared. There were silences as well. Institutions that had rushed to condemn the murder of George Floyd or Russia for attacking Ukraine were apparently confounded. I watched my phone to see whether friends would write to find out if my family was okay—and a few did, with genuine and thoughtful concern, but many did not.

I’m still trying to understand this feeling of abandonment. Is my own naivete to blame? Did I tip too far over into the side of universalism and forget the particularistic concerns to which I should have been attuned—the precarious state of my own tribe? Even as I write this, I don’t really want to believe that that’s true. If I can fault myself clearly for something, though, it’s not recognizing that the same ideological hardening I’d seen on the right in the past few years, the blind allegiances and contorted narratives even when reality was staring people in the face, has also happened, to a greater degree than I’d imagined, on the left, among the people whom I think of as my own. They couldn’t recognize a moral abomination when it was staring them in the face. They were so set in their categories that they couldn’t make a distinction between the Palestinian people and a genocidal cult that claimed to speak in that people’s name. And they couldn’t acknowledge hundreds and hundreds of senseless deaths because the people who were killed were Israelis and therefore the enemy.

As the days go on, the horrific details of what happened—those babies—seem to be registering more fully, if not on the ideological left, then at least among sensible liberals. But somehow I can’t shake the feeling of aloneness. Does it take murdered babies for you to recognize our humanity? I find myself thinking—a thought that feels alien to my own mind but also like the truth. Perhaps this is the Jewish condition, bracketed off for many decades and finally pulling me in.

When news broke of the Kishinev pogrom in 1903 that took 49 lives (compare that with the 1,200 we now know were killed on Saturday), it caused a sensation throughout the world. “Babes were literally torn to pieces by the frenzied and bloodthirsty mob,” The New York Times reported. “The local police made no attempt to check the reign of terror. At sunset the streets were piled with corpses and wounded. Those who could make their escape fled in terror, and the city is now practically deserted of Jews.” In response to that massacre, the emigration of hundreds of thousands of Eastern European Jews to the United States began in earnest; the call of Zionism as a solution also sounded clearly and widely for the first time.

In his famous poem about the massacre, “In the City of Slaughter,” the Hebrew writer Haim Naḥman Bialik lamented, even more than the death, the sense of helplessness (“The open mouths of such wounds, that no mending / Shall ever mend, nor healing ever heal”), the men who watched in terror from their hiding places while women were raped and blood was spilled. I can’t say I know what will happen now that this helplessness has returned—if I’m honest, I also fear that Israel’s retaliation will go too far, that acting out of a place of victimhood, as right as it may feel, will cause the country to lose its mind. Innocent lives in Gaza have been and will be destroyed as a result, and competing victimhood is obviously not the way out of the conflict; it’s the reason that it is hopelessly stuck. But in this moment, before the destruction of Gaza grabs my attention and concern alongside fear for my relatives who have been called up to the army, I don’t want to forget how alone I felt as a Jew these past few days. I have a persistent, uncomfortable need now to have my people’s suffering be felt and seen. Otherwise, history is just an endless repetition. And that’s an additional tragedy that seems too much to bear.

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bookworm-with-coffee · 4 months

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The Greatest Heist of All. . .

(How they react to your pet - Slytherin Boys x Reader)

Plot; Niffler inspired crackfics

Pairings; Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Romantic), Ominis Gaunt x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; jealousy, coarse language, floofity fluff

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Sebastian Sallow

When Sebastian first laid eyes on that Niffler, he knew trouble would start. In rescuing creatures, you had come to love many of them, but none more than those greedy little—

The brunette fumed at the thought of them. Those cute little beady eyes had won you over that day you'd both gone walking in the woods for a picnic date. That's when you'd stumbled upon a den of Nifflers.

Of course, most ran away. But, one remained. One annoying little—

Unafraid and curious, the little creature had sniffled and shuffled closer to you both.

"Mind your pockets", Sebastian commented, your hand waving to dismiss his words without a care.

"Look at you!!", you'd cooed at the little one, your boyfriend hardly sharing your enthusiasm on the creature.

You admired the blue fur on his back, reaching keenly to pet the cheeky little thing before it practically clambered onto your lap and into your arms. Sebastian's eyes rolled as your arms engulfed the Niffler, stroking your hands along his smooth hairs.

Attention went from your date to your uninvited guest, and after some time, Sebastian grew impatient and perhaps, a bit jealous as well?

"Alright, great. You've pet it. Now, can we go?", he huffed, raising a brow.

You pouted up at your boyfriend, the Niffler eagerly accepting your affections, "I don't want to just leave him here".

"He's a wild animal", the brunette reasoned. "He has a family. He'll be fine". But, the Niffler also seemed to share your resolve, not wishing to leave your kind embrace.

"I think— I want to keep him".

Oh God. Oh no—

"Nifflers are little thieves!", Sebastian insisted. "Who wants a pet that could rob you blind??".

Kneeling by your side, your freckled partner laid a gentle hand on your back before sliding it down to hold your spare hand in his attempt to coax you away.

The Niffler saw Sebastian's possessive behaviour and recognised it as a similar behaviour to those of his own kind. Could it be that you were valuable? Not gold, but a treasure as yourself?? This would be his biggest win yet, if that were so.

Sebastian's brown hues drifted to the Niffler, whose attitude had become a bit more insistent. The creature's eyes met his own and without breaking contact, deliberately snuggled into your chest, even daring to lay a possessive paw by your shoulder as if to say, mine.

Oh, it was on.

In the weeks that followed, things grew worse.

Every time there was even a mention of Sebastian, your Niffler saw fit to jump into your lap or arms to draw your attention.

Sebastian was at breaking point. Each time he spoke with you, there was that miscreant stirring him up. He'd even taken to insisting that the thing was evil, to your amusement.

Once or twice, the brunette even went as far as to mouth, "I'm watching you!", from over your shoulder, making the signal with his hands when you weren't looking.

It was unbelievable. A Niffler participating in some form of torturous psychological warfare. And Sebastian wouldn't let him win. You were his.

Then, your owl came and the existential dread continued.

Sebastian,

Would you be so kind as to babysit my Niffler? You'd be doing me a HUGE favour, as I'm away for most of the day on Saturday and he'll be left with no supervision and company.

Love always,

(Y/n) ♡

Bloody thing can starve, was his first thought, finally inwardly relenting when he thought of the consequences. You'd hate him forever if he did that.

So, it was off to your home he'd have to go.

"You boys behave while I'm gone", you'd teasingly instructed with a pointed finger and Sebastian played it off with a forced smile.

"Don't rush", he shrugged, making sure to pull you into the most passionate kiss he could offer, hoping the Niffler would weep on the inside.

"Sebastian", you giggled against his lips, almost tempted to stay for a more intimate moment were it not for your plans. "I am coming back".

His forehead leant on your own, the Niffler forgotten whilst his hands drew imaginary patterns on your waist. "I'll be waiting with bated breath", the brunette whispered, pressing another kiss to the tip of your nose. "I love you".

"I love you too", you sighed, allowing only one more peck on the lips before your parting.

Until the Niffler scuttled to you, pulling on the fabric of your blouse from where he sat on a table. "Oh, Darling", you fawned, Sebastian resisting the urge to hurl. "I'd nearly forgotten you!!". Lifting the creature, you kissed the top of his head. "Mama will be back soon, okay? Behave for your Dad".

Oh, God. He really was going to be sick.

Giving a final wave of your hand, you were off and away, Sebastian's unimpressed glower falling onto the Niffler beside him. "I am not your Dad".

The Niffler seemed to chatter, something akin to mischievous laughter. And I'm not going to behave.

Some of the most horrible hours of Sebastian's life came to follow.

It was one incident after the other, resulting in a few smashed vases and a bruised ego for Sebastian.

"That's it!", he finally snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at the little creature. "I've had it!! Whatever, it is!!".

As if scolding a child, Sebastian continued, "(Y/n) may think you're adorable, but I know the truth, you conniving thief! You might have fooled her, but you don't fool me!! And if you think for one second that—".

"Sebastian?".

His face paled, hearing the voice of his love and the Niffler took his chance. The mischievous creature began to sniffle, as if it were crying, before faking a limp whilst walking to you.

"What happened??", you cried out, spying the shards of a broken vase by the bench, still not cleaned up because of one little Niffler. Your attention instantly diverted to your pet, seemingly in hurt. "What did you do, Sebastian?!".

"What did I do??", he repeated incredulously. "I didn't do anything to him! It was that damn creature running amok!!".

All the while, you were focused on the aforementioned miscreant, feeding into his lies and infuriating Sebastian further.

"He's evil, (Y/n)! That thing needs to go!!".

"That 'thing', is Jeffrey!", you shot back.

"Oh?? So, it has a name now??".

Your eyes bore into the brunette's, searching his darker hues in silent scrutiny for a moment before you spoke again.

"You're jealous".

Those words made him stiffen, silencing any comebacks he'd bottled inside.

"That's ridiculous", Sebastian offered, too weak to be an argument.

"You are!", your mouth fell open, drawing your boyfriend's brows together.

"I am not jealous!".

"By Merlin", you gasped, trying to restrain any laughter threatening to spill out. "You're jealous. Of a Niffler?? ".

"He gets in the way!", Sebastian yelled, harsher than intended. "You're always giving him your attention, I hardly get it anymore! He's also consciously trying to steal you from me, for whatever reason!".

"Steal me?", your brow rose, a few giggles slipping out before your expression softened. Your eyes shifted to Jeffrey, noting that he was uncharacteristically fine for a creature so 'hurt' and you stroked over his fur, placing him aside. "You'll be fine".

The Niffler watched as you approached Sebastian, bringing him into an embrace. Your fingers combed through the soft waves of his hair and down to the nape of his neck, allowing him to melt in your arms.

"Sebastian", you sighed, shaking your head only slightly. "You're right. My attention from you has been divided. And while Jeffrey's behaviour was far from innocent—". You pulled back, running your fingertips over his face, encouraging his eyes to meet yours. "— I will never be stolen away from you. No Human or Niffler can steal me from the one who matters most to me. There's only one Sebastian Sallow. And that's rarer than any treasure".

A smile finally returned to Sebastian's face, the gap closing between you both. Your lips met his, gentle and breezy, calming the fires of anger and jealousy that had once stoked within his heart.

"I'll make us a cup of tea", you whispered, tapping the brunette on his nose, leaving only the brightest of smiles in your wake as you brushed by.

Sebastian turned his attention to the little shit sitting on the nearby counter, his tongue darting out teasingly. "I win".

The Niffler's head seemed to dip, suddenly sad and deflated. A pang of guilt hit Sebastian in that moment and it made him relent to the small creature.

"Fine", he grumbled, unable to fight his growing smile. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but–". He offered his hand. "— friends?". Jeffrey sniffled, almost seeming to nod in agreement when he extended his paw. "Just don't push your luck".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Ominis Gaunt

The day Ominis met your pet Niffler was utterly magical.

You had lead him into your vivarium for the first time, introducing him to the array of magical creatures that were under your care.

Ominis got to feel the smooth and pristine feathers of a Joberknoll, the fluffy hairs of a Puffskein; and the beak of your Hippogriff, Highwing.

And then the cherry on top; your Niffler.

Nifflers were curious, but harmless creatures. They were notorious for stealing jewels, treasure, coins— anything that sparkled, really. With their affectionate nature and reputation for an adorable stature, it was not a mystery as to why you chose to keep the Niffler you rescued from poachers.

The blonde had always wanted to meet one of those cute little theives and in knowing this, you'd excitedly given him the opportunity.

"Where is he??", Ominis had asked, unable to mask the way his voice travelled an octave higher in his anticipation.

"This way!", he was able to hear the grin in your tone, widening his own as he eagerly allowed himself to be tugged along by the pale tips of his nimble fingers.

You'd gently helped the blonde to be seated on the soft grass, almost finding yourself mesmerised with how the sunlight struck his delicate features.

Whistling and clicking your fingers, there was a shuffling in the grass as something approached. It had startled Ominis only slightly, the new grip of your hand over his own settling him.

You guided his hand forward as you had done so before, his palm finally landing on something soft. A short gasp heaved from the blonde, his lashes fluttering at the new sensations beneath his skin.

There was the rapid rising and falling of the little creature's breaths as he sniffed over the new guest of the vivarium.

A smile carved its way onto Ominis' expression, hesitantly stroking over the little creature beneath his grasp. Your hand lead his over the Niffler's head and snuffling snout, a breathy laugh slipping from the blonde when the small breaths tickled his skin.

Long had he dreamed about this..

"Ominis, I'd like you to meet Sebastian", you laughed at the sudden quizzical look that dawned on your counterpart's expression.

"Sebastian?", Ominis echoed with a quirk of his brow. "You named your Niffler after our friend? ".

No, he wasn't jealous. Not at all.

"Only because he gets into so much trouble", you giggled. "He also has these adorable speckles on his fur around his face. Lilac fur with faded spots".

"Like freckles", he nodded in understanding, trying to fight the deflation dampening his initial excitement. "Does Sebastian know that you've named your 'child' after him?".

Ominis was sure that with the amount of time you'd spent with Sebastian on various escapades in the fifth year and the closeness you still shared now in your seventh, that the brunette had undoubtedly been the first to be shown the Room of Requirement and these lovely creatures.

Perhaps Sebastian was the better suitor for you??

"No, actually", your amused answer shocked Ominis. "I've never brought him here. He doesn't even know of this place".

"He doesn't?", the blonde's brows creased in a bout of confusion. "I thought he'd be the first to know of this place".

"What do you mean??".

Ominis' heart had begun to beat frantically within his chest whilst he'd attempted to play his jealousy and nerves off with a smile, as he often did when it came to your friendship with Sebastian.

"I— I just meant that you two are close", he replied with a tug of his shoulders. "I thought you might have been more inclined to show him over me, is all. I was only confused as to why it was the contrary".

In the few seconds of thoughtful silence that followed, you both had taken notice to the warmth of your hand that still lingered on his own, neither of you daring to separate them. Instead, your fingers slowly inched into the gaps between his own, hinting your intentions with your words,

"Do you not know?".

Ominis squeezed the digits threaded with his own like they were a life-raft, assuring you of his consent before your lips had taken his own in careful caresses.

Absolutely magical.

Or so he'd thought at the time, not realizing he'd just unknowingly declared war against a very protective Niffler.

Ominis dismissed it as paranoia at first, just shrugging off the seemingly possessive behaviour the little creature conveyed.

But, it had become apparent over the many weeks that it wasn't just his imagination playing tricks on him..

The Niffler was clearly jealous of your diverted attention. Ominis had figured that out rather quickly.

Just as the Niffler had figured out how to push his buttons. Like Sebastian.

Whenever you both had picnics in the vivarium or brought Ominis along to help in the care of your creatures, Sebastian lived up to his name.

The mischeievous miscreant always managed to get in the way, snatching Ominis' wand from his robes so that he wouldn't be able to find you or the other creatures before misplacing it to make it look as if it had dropped out by mistake.

You thought that's all it was, despite Ominis knowing and insisting otherwise.

Then, it was the Niffler napping on your lap whenever Ominis wanted to. And of course, you were a sucker for that adorable little shit. He could do no evil, apparently.

Holding hands? The Niffler went out of his way to pry the blonde's hand from yours, snuggling under yours to draw your attention; even going as far as to shove Ominis' hand away and preoccupy your palm with his paw.

Sitting together? Sebastian interfered with that too, worming his annoying little self between your bodies so that he could sit in the middle as a barrier to separate you both.

Whenever Ominis wanted time with you, Sebastian was always there. It was like the Niffler had been incarnated with a piece of his best friend's soul, always troublesome and always interfering.

Ominis finally hit breaking point when the little shit decided to make off not only with his wand, but with the handmade necklace he'd bought from Feldcroft in his most recent visit.

The blonde planned to give it to you as a gift, but even he should've known better than to have it in his pockets when visiting the vivarium to carry out a favour for you, his beloved.

Whilst you would be attending to family business today, he would care for your creatures. Something that was turning out to be a complete impossibility.

In Sebastian's mouth? Ominis' wand.

In his paws?? The necklace.

"Come back here, you little rat! Give those back, Sebastian!!", he cried out, only able to follow the scuttling in the grass and the jingling of the jewellery in the Niffler's greedy grasp.

Wheezing and panting, Ominis crawled and sprinted around, the Niffler releasing an occasional squeak whenever he got close. Until—

"Got you!", the blonde shouted, finding a grip on the Niffler that struggled desperately in his grasp.

It soon became clear that he was holding the little miscreant upside down, coins seeming to pour out of his marsupial-like pouch. His paws were still occupied with the necklace he'd stolen, whining in despair at the loss of his precious coins as they rained down to the floor.

"Serves you right!", Ominis seethed, breathless from his pursuit.

In a sense of victory, the blonde's lips curled into a grin, his fingertips running along the Niffler's belly. The creature chattered as if he were laughing, especially ticklish at the gentle prodding. More coins and jewels rained out as Ominis' fingers reached his sniffling snout.

Quickly snatching his wand back from the little creature's jaw, he boasted, "I win", before reaching for Sebastian's paws.

Ominis caught ahold of the necklace, but the Niffler's grip was like iron.

"Sebastian, give it to me", the blonde chided, tugging on the precious piece of jewellery. "Come on, Sebastian".

The Niffler struggled and resisted, never being more keen to possess anything in his life. Even the measly coins Ominis tried to trade couldn't compare to the necklace and he wasn't willing to break it.

"You stubborn mule! Fine!!", he snapped, huffing as he set Sebastian loose.

Dejected, the blonde sat himself down, soon recieving the company of your Puffskein as it nuzzled into his side. Despite his sadness, even he was unable to resist smiling at the affectionate creature.

Ominis reached over to pet the Puffskein, your mischievous Niffler watching from a distance. All of his lost coins were on the ground by the blonde's legs, but it wasn't them that drew Sebastian back.

It was the realisation that Ominis could love him just as much as you could. That his love was not a threat to the friendship you shared with your favourite pet.

Perhaps he'd tried stealing the wrong person??

Ominis seemed just as compassionate, if not moreso.

His attention soon became divided from the Puffskein when the cool and delicate metal of a necklace was dropped into his palm. The blonde almost couldn't believe it.

A Niffler?? Returning something shiny??

And then it clicked. It wasn't of value to him, but a ploy to sabotage your relationship with Ominis. Sebastian had felt threatened.

"Thank you", Ominis whispered, his lips curling out of amusement as the little creature began to shuffle around and pick up the coins that had dropped.

Perhaps Sebastian was more alike to his human counterpart than the blonde first realised? He has a heart of gold too, although it rarely shows.

And upon your return to the vivarium, you were delighted to find things resolved between your pet and boyfriend, knowing tensions and jealousy had been spiked between the two.

There, Ominis laid on the grass asleep, a freckled lilac Niffler upon his chest.

Your plan had worked..

The End. . .

___________________________________________

Hey readers!! ❤❤ I hope you all enjoyed these fics as much as I loved writing them!! As always, any and all feedback is welcome!

So, please - let me know how I went in writing for Sebastian and Ominis for the first time and how to improve, if I can! If you wished to be added to my taglist for this fandom or any others I write for, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!

Thank you all for your support!! ❤❤❤

#ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #slytherin boys #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #fanfiction #my writing #gifs not mine

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nyashykyunnie · 29 days

Text

˗ˏˋ Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Player! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: stalking, obsession, yandere Jinwoo au ]

┈➤ ❝ [ Ｌ　ｏ　ａ　ｄ　ｉ　ｎ　ｇ. . . ] ¡! ❞

You never really thought about it, you just downloaded Solo Leveling's new game out of excitement to want to see your precious Jinwoo on screen. Perhaps you're here to re-experience the story, or maybe you want to help him grow better. Or just watch him entirely.

After all, you played this game to see him.

Leveling him up as much as you can, getting frustrated when you run out of keys, gold and materials to max him out— You became obsessed with this game just as fast you became with the main protagonist,...

Not knowing that he could feel your drilling gaze on him.

Jinwoo really doesn't know how this happened. He just had a good hot shower after finishing a high ranked gate and sprawled on his bed like a starfish the moment he was done with his nightly routine.

Then all of the sudden, he awakened in the body of his pathetic self. The him he hated so much. He wanted to thrash around, feel his face, or even speak. But in the end, he is somehow stuck on making mundane things. Saying cheesy lines that internally makes him wretch.

Jinwoo felt so disgusted when he sees himself in the reflection on the puddles of water. Unkept hair that looks like it hasn't been brushed for days. His small stature lacking any muscles, he's built like a twig and Jinwoo cant help but feel a huge douse of fury washing over him.

He even tries to make contact with his old friends. He cant say or control his body, but he could atleast control the movement of his eyes. He tried staring at Ju-hee's face even. But he soon realized that she's not really there. it's like she's a hollow machine spatting out whatever.

He tried to summon his shadows who were thankfully still with him, but he could tell that his children are all asleep despite him trying his best to wake them up telepathically.

But most of all, he could feel your eyes on him. He could hear your taps against something. It took Jinwoo a bit of time to realize that he himself— Is actually in a game and you are the player, the player that is controlling him like a damn puppet.

He hated it at first really, he could hear your excited squeals and his head even spins when you toss your phone around when he does something remotely basic. When you spin him around he craves to reach his hand out and shake you as punishment for making him go around and around like some sort of carousel.

Jinwoo had no choice but to be patient with you.

Even as he wants to sigh in defeat whenever you level up the wrong stats, even as you prioritize the wrong things, even as you skip reading important tutorials, even as you level up the wrong artifacts when they have the shittiest substats ever.

Really, sometimes, he just internally begs for you to stop playing the game and let him go. Maybe if you stop, he would wake up and go back to his mundane everyday life.

Though to his dismay, you kept playing everyday ceaselessly. Leveling him up, getting excited over events, feeling victorious whenever you win even with your ridiculously poorly built weapons and artifacts or pulling something good in the gacha system.

At least you're trying to take good care of him in a way, he appreciates that somehow.

But the more time spent, the more Jinwoo is learning.

While you're oblivious to everything and just blindly charging head-first in the game. Jinwoo spends that time learning about you.

He knows at least that he isn't someone real in your world, and he is nothing more than a figment of someone's imagination.

And most importantly, he is apparently your favourite character.

The thought of it made him shudder with cringe honestly.

Like come on, seriously?

Choose better you dimwit.

Of course, that sent him in a whole spiral of existential dread. Even as he isn't in a mood for anything. He cant really voice it out or do anything about it since you are technically his master and he is depresisngly bound to do whatever you wish.

Ah, but who is he again? Jinwoo.

Sung Jinwoo, The Shadow Monarch.

Just like before, Jinwoo will swallow the system. But this time, he's not just going to hack the game code— He will swallow your entire phone system.

Take it as a revenge for making him live through his E-ranked days again.

... At least that's what he plans but instead he craved to wash his eyes out with soap.

The amount of edits you have of him in your phone, the many many screenshots of him you have in your gallery— God, he just wanted to die actually.

Then again, he died a number of times and still woke up again so he's just pulling his leg here.

As frustrating it is, Jinwoo wa slowly finding himself getting attached to you.

From dreading your daily log-ins to actually looking forward to the time you log-in. He even memorized the exact time you usually open the game.

With his little tinkering here and there, he started helping you out with your gacha luck. From usually hitting hard pity to get something good to suddenly frequently having red appear despite being at low pity.

He cant really intervene with the system blindly since you will get suspicious so he starts manipulating the codes into making you have better artifacts and substats. You're not that stupid to keep the shitty ones anyway so he's thankful for that.

Slowly, slowly, Jinwoo's mind deteriorated from simple endearment to outright obsession in a span of a few days or weeks— He can't really tell when he started to become attached to you, his dearly beautiful master.

It never really sunk in how much he adored you until you opened another game you've stopped playing because of him. Jinwoo was so infuriated he almost made your phone shut down since he was in charge of it's system now.

He badly wanted to destroy your account in that game but refrained from doing so since he didn't want you to become upset.

Through hovering around in the code like a boogeyman, he could see that you display signs of attachment to these insignificant characters.

These damn fools aren't even aware of your affections and are just hollow dolls made up of codes. They're nothing more than fools just doing whatever the fuck they were programmed to do.

Jinwoo gets increasingly pissed off when you grind someone else's materials, when you giggle and kick around whenever you hear and read a line from them. Veins would pop angrily from Jinwoo's jaw, almost as if they could burst any moment.

But he had to keep his cool.

He had to endure them since atleast they're making you happy even if he entirely hates the premise of something else stealing your smiles away from him.

Jinwoo behaved relatively well until you decided to abandon him just to grind for another goddamn character you're pining to get.

Jinoo prayed it'll only be for one day, but soon lost his mind when you decided to ignore him for a total of 2 weeks just to get that fucking bastard home. He found it so disgusting that someone else dared to be the apple of your eye. That fucker made you hit hard pity when he in comparison just gives you whatever you want. It fucking pissed him off on another level.

Of course, you decided to pop right back in the moment you get that character from another game.

But Solo Leveling suddenly felt weird.

The game wasn't really buggy or anything, it looked normal but somehow— Somehow, you could feel a pair of eyes watching you the whole time. it was an eerie feeling but you just shrugged it off as you having a weird sense of gut feeling.

But ah, it started to make you feel horrified whenever you play the game.

You try to move to another game, but somehow you cant get them to open. You tried to reinstall and install again but it wont budge. Even as you moved to another device it wont work.

All your games wouldn't work except for Solo Leveling itself.

Left with no other choice, you start grinding him again.

You often forget that weird feeling you have stirring in the pit of your stomach.

However, sometimes, you could catch a glimpse of Jinwoo's eyes— Glancing right back at you even when you didn't manipulate the screen into making it that way.

You shrug it off as a weird bug in the game or your eyes just casually playing tricks on you. But one day when you left your screen hanging for a few minutes since you had to do some chores, you go back just to see Jinwoo's grey eyes staring at you. Even as you try to move around, his pupils would follow your movement like a hawk. Back turned, a form straight and poise— You are sure that he really is looking at you. Attempting to exit the game was to no avail, since your screen would freeze.

Turning off the button served no purpose either.

And finally, Jinwoo would move on his own, his tailcoat swishing around as he finally turns to meet your gaze with purple orbs glowing so eeriely like the devil reincarnated.

His mouth would move, mouthing so sweetly with his deep voice vibrating through your whole body "You really should have just stayed put, otherwise, I wouldn't have resorted to this." A hand would suddenly burst from your screen a strong hand firmly holding your wrist. Long and elegant digits were on your skin now, the grip so firm it made you shudder. You weren't given any time to panic or scream for help as you were suddenly yanked in roughly but also gently. Your eyes would be shut tight, your body shivering from fright as the strong hold on your wrist still stayed.

Then, an arm would find it's way around your waist— Making your orbs shot wide open as they now once again meets with another's gaze.

The gaze you have been staring for so long, the slanted deep eyes the were seemingly carved out of the finest gemstones, eyebrows steady and straight as if it were drawn by the most talented artist, his nose and jawline perfectly angled that felt like it was god himself who carved this divine appearance so that no man could ever match against his unflawed features. Jinwoo.

Sung Jinwoo

"Locking you out of your other accounts worked at first, but then it started to rub me wrong," Jinwoo starts, his deep voice seeming to echo inside your eardrums as he shifts your hand to his chest where you can feel two distinctive heartbeats drumming against his ribcage. "Maybe I'm guilty for making you frustrated, after all, you tried your best to get into them just to see those pesky imbeciles."

He then continues, "Of course, I could always lift the binds that I placed down. But even the idea of your pretty eyes looking at something else set me off"

"So instead of making you suffer with bullshit you shouldn't, I decided it's high time I bring you home with me. After all, you've always been begging for me, I'll grant your wish."

With a firm grasp around your chin now, he pulled you close, his lips crashign against yours for a heated kiss. Your heart would leap out of your chest, each flick of Jinwoo's tongue tickling and swirling against yours making your inside itch to burst. As you both floated in the dark abyss, your thoughts are put into a screeching halt as Jinwoo continues his assault on you. Each rub of his slender fingers made you shudder, one arm still firmly around your waist while the other tangled itself in your locks to gently massage your scalp in order to make you melt into his embrace once more. The more he kissed you so lovingly and possessively— The more the light behind him grew stronger.

And as it engulfed the both of you in it's cold embrace— Your conciousness was eaten away.

The next thing you knew, you are awake in Jinwoo's bed with the hunter himself cradling you in his arms while on his phone.

He had wrapped you in his blanket in a cozy way, one hand still playing with the back of your head as he kept it resting on his shoulder like a pillow.

"You're awake," Jinwoo cooes, tossing his phone down lazily as he presses his lips against your forehead sweetly. "It's still early in the morning, go to bed, we'll talk later about your new life and some... Rules you're going to be living with now. But you'll be good and follow them for me, right?"

#∞ ₒ ˚ ° 📎— kyunnya speaks #sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #solo leveling x reader #jinwoo sung x you #sung jinwoo x you #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #yandere sung jinwoo

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brittle-doughie · 13 days

Note

Imagine steadily sneaking out of Dark Cacao's Palace, a flourbag load of pure unadulterated determination keeping your legs sturdy. Painstakingly heading for Beast-Yeast yourself to personally confront Mystic Flour Cookie, finally face-to-face.

First, your dreams. These crestfallen memories; these should not be yours, but yet they use your crust, copied down to how it crackles and crumbles. They walk with your legs and use your voice, and not meekly. Your little colorful buttons and creme filling. Through the eternal eyes of another wearing your broken face, a heavy shade of grief insisting a strong quake through your hands and feet, reflected in a broken mirror of indestructible forks and magic. None of this has ever happened to you, all your friends were alive and running free at the center of Gingerbrave's Kingdom.

Yet the firm echo at the crack of your mind reclaims; it indeed, had.

Second, that encounter and furiously attempted Soul Jam corruption with Shadow Milk Cookie, the dark jester of silken half-truths and rusty riddles; who's immortal darkness swallowed your common sense, that shadow with countless steep blue moon slits never dulled once under the unmoving gaze of the Sun.

But now, this sudden interest-an unpardoned heart from the literal pristine white embodiment of weightless apathy and sincerity?

These situations were too specific, familiar, and suffocatingly personal for mere coincidence.

The Beasts regurd you with an infectious stench of deep nostalgia, their eyes flash an infernal fire of thought, the kind one feels upon shaking hands with an old friend. The one that crawls like a bug, wiggles like a maggot. Growing the sprout of an itch, at an open chip of dry frosting the back of your head. A push, a pull, an annoying yet strong temptation of confrontation; of an acceptance, remembrances. Like they've known you since the very first crumb fell off the Witches' baking pan.

You spent this baked life depending on the protection and care of your beloved friends, but if that interferes with the truth you seek, you will risk falling apart into flour for finally having the chance to confront one of these gods about who you used to be.

Shadow Milk was serious when he countered you into an edge of existential dread. He was a frantic for the dramatics. Even for the most serious of cataclysmic events, he danced around the subject of your connection, hoping to unveil the mystery into stellar applause. That was the plan it seemed at leaat until Pure Vanilla threw a stake into his encore.

Cut through the answers.

With a mountain of luck and enough certainty, perhaps Mystic Flour Cookie will spare you doubts.

After all, even a being like her will neigh overlook such an opportunity; the chance of finally re-welcoming you, where she and the rest of her comrades know you rightfully belong.

She actually feels compelled to thank the merger weak Cookie's influence upon your new body, their mortal stupidity and curious self-preservation was an endless plague all within its very self, almost enough for her to forgive them for slowly erasing the dear memory of your once-divine mark upon these waning lands and lesser soils.

Almost.

(Sorry I have thoughts and lots of then, I hope I ain't bothering you.)

Nah, it’s all good. This was a pretty interesting read!

From what my brain of mush can put together, Y/N was a former Primordial Cookie before being reincarnated into a regular Cookie at some point, you were having dreams of this past life at first to the lead up to the search for White Lily Cookie.

The Shadow Milk fight would be the first time you started questioning on who you really were, but Pure Vanilla/White Lily Cookie pushed him back before you could get answers.

Your reputation seemed to be revered amongst the Beasts, as such with Mystic Flour Cookie. As stated, she could almost forgive the transgressions of having your memory altered, making you forget how you left your mark in these lands. You needed to remember who your allegiances should really go to, to remember who your real comrades were.

You were getting answers from Mystic Flour, in one way or another.

#brittle answers #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader

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fuumiku · 2 months

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Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

#Dungeon meshi #Ask #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Marcille donato #chilchuck tims #Marchil #You me the parking lot after i finish and post my arc analysis #Sobbing……… we’re 20 over here in the rarepair pit come on. Like do u not see how obsessed i am. Do u think they like. Mean nothing to me #Do u think it’s all incidental and i slipped and the 10 thousands of words I write for them had no thought or feelings behind them or #Their arc is so beautifuuuuul they come to see each other and her standards become more real while he allows hope and openness #Into his heart again 😭😭 not the way two of their scenes lowkey read as a proposal…#Anyways I hope this makes it clear I’ll fight to my dying breath for them.#I don’t want trouble and i imagine you don’t either so just don’t come shitting on my doorstep #In positive news my fic Grind Me Down Sweetly recently reached 100 likes and 1k hits <3 it can also be read as just platonic so if you like #Them as a duo even as friends give it a shot #Every time I see someone shitting on marchil I start making marchil content faster btw #Not art

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this-is-a-name-dont-worry · 3 months

Text

things that seemed reoccurring this update:

- Meat

- peas

- jelly

- Hibernation

- Eddie's absence

- Acting out a script (Sally mumbling asking if it's her cue and Howdy changing the script of the narrator in Homewarming storybook, characters general interactions with the narrator, different moments in the video, like the Sally and Frank ad break or the song a barely silent night, where the two literally fight over who get to sing, Sally mentions she wrote the lyrics, and Frank says she already has a song. yeah all of these are easy to see as meta goofs in the original material, but it's the fact there's so much of it this update) (of course all this wrap up with the end of the video where Eddie and Frank are obviously acting off script)

- Being alone (Eddie not having any news of anyone and not even seeing anyone outside (which is interesting as the story says that Sally was up in a tree near his home and saw him fret over having nothing to do), Wally saying it's so quiet during Homewarming and it's just he and Home for a while (potentially the show putting out a christmas special and then being on break? can a show do that?), and in the normal website material, the end of "An ode to hibernation", Frank saying "Where all that's left is me", the "me" being a "...me?")

- Welcome Home being used to sell stuff (cigarettes, medicine, eggnog, cereals, and the cookbook lists ingredients that are a specific brand)

(I'm putting under read more my rambling thoughts so you can just reblog the list without having to see them)

so I can't really make sense yet of all the food stuff. Maybe there are cultural elements/expressions I don't know that explains it? But I still find it very interesting how fucking unhinged that cookbook is yet the commercial and the website treat it normally. The cookbook is overall extremely interesting, because some of the recipes seem to actually be written by the characters; Barnaby who only presents you weird hot dog dressings with pictures but no recipe (and all jokes), Frank who lists not just the ingredients but also the material, and overexplain each steps (at least overexplain compared to the other recipes. it's actually interesting to know why you do x or y), and Julie who turns her recipe into a game at the end, and felt a bit harder to follow? anyway.

The cookbook, the Homewarming tradition of hanging a ham in the tree, Santy Claus being said sometimes instead of Santa, the ham for Santa? Once again, the christmas commercials being so casual about some of the weird stuff it says and presents? This almost feels like an alien who only has a blurry grasp of Christmas and what humans enjoy made the cookbook and the live commercial.

Sometimes, Welcome Home feels like it never actually aired and produced things, but we're making it retroactively exist. Something is making it exist. Like a retcon of the universe, "What do you mean you never heard of Welcome Home? No, of course it always existed and was very popular, look at all this old material we find!"

So maybe whatever is making it exist doesn't fully get humans and accidentally creates things that are weird to prove its existence. Like a cookbook that tells you a single pea in a buttered plate is a classic meal, or that of course you give Santa ham on Homewarming! (tbh almost getting an AI weirdness feel)

But in total contrary, in its story, Welcome Home also feels like it always existed, but got somehow completely wiped from people's mind, as something caused its sudden stop, and its characters gained consciousness of what they are and their world. As an existential dread fell on them one after the other, slowly realizing something isn't right. As Eddie felt anxiety and nervousness over no one being there or contacting him, to then having the story acts lightheartedly about it, the narrator saying things have been solved but he doesn't feel it, and suddenly Home is staring at him.

Both "It never existed but the universe is being retcon into it existing" and "it existed but something terrible happened that erased it from peoples mind" seem plausible. If two theories contradict each other, that means there's a third one that needs to be found.

Maybe it existed. Maybe it truly was popular, but something corrupted it, leading to its disappearance. A disappearance so big it stopped to exist. And now the thing that corrupted it is trying to crawl back, make it exist again, but it's making it come back completely off.

Anyway.

Also, I think the show may have been on hold during the Holiday season, "hibernating", and the character who got some self awareness realized that something was off. They're alone because there's nothing new, so no one is there bringing life to the neighborhood.

#welcome home #anyway there is an existential nightmare going on that's for sure #also at one point writing my rambling I thought about metaphor for capitalism #the show gains succes and so there's a push to make money out of it. capitalism is corrupting it until it goes in shambles.#now a few decades later banking on nostalgia to make profit is what big things do #bringing back the thing from your childhood to show it again but it's off because what brought it back is not love for the thing #it's being brought back because of capitalism. the thing that corrupted it in the first place is trying to bring it back.#sorry i still ramble in the tags :x

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jyeshindra · 6 months

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Astrolovations (I)

Hey there! Just noting down some things I observe and connections I make regarding astrology. And yes, I made up a new word. Deal with it.

You can always spot an Aquarius by that look in their eye and a half smile. Like they're judging you, studying you, and experiencing you all at the same time.

More feminine Aquarians give me cool-girl vibes. They're detached and kind of removed from things, but super chill at the same time. Friendly and open but they have and will express their boundaries.

The more masculine Aquarians can fit that stubborn, know-it-all Aquarian stereotype a bit better. These more unhealed Aquarians are so difficult. Fixed air? Saturn and Uranus dominance? This is not a person who will follow other people's rules. A frustrating energy for sure. I dare say it's giving asshole. LOL

Sagittarius and Gemini make a good duo, but these signs are likely to solely be intellectual. Neither sign is very good at feeling. They aren't emotional! And they may talk about emotions...sure! But don't be fooled!

The most important thing to a Sagittarius Moon? Their freedom! They won't do well in relationships where the other is constantly telling them how to live their life and making critical analyses. Remember this sign is half-man and half-beast. That lower half wants to frolick and go wherever it wishes! If it feels pinned down or caged, it'll fight back or just disappear.

Taureans are always listening. These people are super wise and super knowledgeable but they won't be obvious about it like a Sagittarius or Gemini. It reminds me of how earth has this ability to hold things and fossilize things over time. Taurus kind of has this energy. I think it's the receptivity of Venus in Fixed Earth. AND that Scorpio opposition. Both of these signs are super observant and notice the little details. Their intuitive knowledge is gained from absorbing so much over time and letting that information marinate. It's how they both are able to create such amazing foundations for themselves.

I do believe in cuspy energy. But only cause Sidereal exists. A lottt of people are two different signs in two different systems. Cusps feel like the same sort of situation to me. But also...if you have your birth time you know which sign you fall under, which destroys the whole cusp argument.

I actually do kinda identify more with my Vedic chart than my Tropical chart. I see both energies, but my Pisces Sun/Scorpio Moon makes so much sense to me. Especially once I learned I'm Jyeshtha!

Speaking of Jyeshtha...the voices of these natives are usually distinguishable in some way. I think this may be Mercury-ruled nakshatras in particular (Ashlesha, Jyeshtha, Revati) but I can only feel strongly about Jyeshtha with this one. I mean Charlie Sheen...Donald Trump...even Nicki Minaj. The voices are so distinct. Even my Jyeshtha professor has a pretty distinct, raspy voice.

The way trauma has made certain aspects of my chart invisible to me. Part of what makes this practice so interesting to me is how much of my chart is waiting to be lit up by my own future. There's mysteries inside of me I haven't even met yet.

I think the last four zodiac moon signs (Cap, Pisces, Sag, and Aqua) can deal with their emotions in a very existential way. It's almost like they're thinking about their emotions in relationship to bigger/large concepts or constructs. Their perspective is already geared towards a "bigger picture" so to speak. They'll often handle their emotions in an impersonal way too. Aquarius will rationalize it, Capricorn will likely fall into pessimism or suppress it, Pisces may wallow and succumb to existential dread, Sagittarius will also intellectualize or avoid it altogether!

That's all for this round of observations! Stay tuned for the next edition.

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fungifanart · 4 months

Text

Budget for love

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!reader, Ruggie Bucchi, Grim

CW: Skipping meals, existential dread, money problems

Word count: 2,032

Notes: I heard a voice one night, urging me to write a Ruggie fic...that voice was mine. I just like Ruggie.

---------------------------------------‐-------------------------

Ruggie Bucchi's financial status is, by no means, a secret.

Ever since he enrolled at Night Raven College, he's garnered a reputation for being a money-grubbing cheapskate who can reduce any merchant to their knees through his skill at haggling alone, all due to his lack of financial security.

Growing up in the slums will do that to a guy, he supposes.

Along with that, growing up poor has also instilled in him a certain pettiness and resentment in regards to the more privileged classes, which just so happen to make up a very large portion of NRC's student body.

Joy.

Well, if nothing else, this makes it easy to simply view most of the other students as potential pickpocket targets.

However, this also makes it easy to forget that not all of them are more well-off than he is, meaning it's especially jarring when he comes across a certain Prefect and direbeast having an argument in Sam's on-campus store.

"C'mon, Henchman! You're telling me we can't afford ONE little extra can of tuna?" Grim argues while clutching said can of tuna to his chest tightly.

"Yes I am, Grim. With our budget, we can barely even afford the bare essentials for this week. That 'one little extra can' will push us over the edge for sure!" The Prefect argues back with the look of a tired father trying in vain to reason with his stubborn child, "Listen, I get paid for my work at the Mostro Lounge on Friday, right? I know you've still got some of your secret stash left, so if you can hold out until then, I'll get you a can of the fancy tuna as a reward. How's that sound?"

That last statement causes Grim's face to light up as he immediately drops the can of regular tuna and hugs the Prefect while exclaiming, "Deal!"

Ruggie doesn't do anything. He simply watches, mildly dazed at what should have been a fact he already knew as the Prefect finishes paying for his essentials and leaves the store with Grim as Ruggie continues to stand there before being brought back to his senses by another student telling to him to move out of the way.

Ruggie doesn't see the Prefect again for a few days after that, their schedules never seeming to allow them even a passing glance in the halls, but the memory of what he saw that day still lingers in his mind for a reason he can’t quite identify right now.

The next time Ruggie does see the Prefect is in the cafeteria during lunch.

It's one of the rare occasions where he hasn't been ordered by Leona to get his lunch for him, so he's taking his time, scanning the tables for a place to sit when he notices the Prefect sitting across from his feline companion while said companion munches away at his food.

Seeing no other open seats, Ruggie walks over and says, "Long time, no see, Prefect! Mind if I sit here?" He asks despite not waiting for the other man's answer and plopping himself and his tray down in the spot next to him.

"O-oh! Yeah, that's fine." The Prefect responds before turning his head back to Grim as he eats, but Ruggie can't help but notice the lack of food on his side of the table.

"Dang, Prefect! I wish I got here sooner so I could've seen the carnage!" Ruggie remarks while playfully nudging the other man's shoulder.

"Huh? What do you mean?" The Prefect asks confusedly.

"Oh, come on! YOU finishing your food before GRIM? I can only imagine how much you stuffed your face to make that happen!" Ruggie concludes with a snicker before taking a bite of one of his sandwiches.

The Prefect blinks a couple times before responding, "Oh, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I didn't get lunch." He says, causing the hyena to choke on his food.

"W-whaddaya mean you 'didn't get lunch'???" Ruggie questions after chugging his water.

The Prefect shrugs, "Just what I said. We have some leftovers at Ramshackle that I could’ve brought, but we were in such a rush this morning that we couldn't even eat breakfast, much less prepare any lunch and running back between classes would take too long. Therefore, we had no choice but to buy lunch from here, but I had barely enough cash to get food for one of us and it'd kill me to see Grim go hungry, so I figured I'd be fine if I skipped a meal or two." He concludes nonchalantly.

Ruggie proceeds to sit there, dumbfounded, as the Prefect goes back to watching Grim eat, his face content, but with a hint of melancholy.

Ruggie knows that look. He's seen it countless times in his childhood on the faces of some of the adults in his neighborhood as they forwent their own food just to let their children eat.

He doesn't remember seeing a lot of them around last time he went home.

His mind snaps back to the present as he looks down at his lunch tray piled high with the food he bought using money he'd snuck out of Leona's wallet and then back at the empty space in front of the Prefect, his stomach suddenly not feeling as empty as before.

Wordlessly, Ruggie takes two of his sandwiches and slides them over to the other man, who looks back at him in bewilderment.

"Ruggie? What's this for?" The Prefect asks.

Ruggie clears his throat awkwardly before responding, "W-well, it's just that it turns out I got more food than I'll probably eat, so I thought 'why not', right?" He says while forcing his signature laugh.

Luckily, the Prefect doesn't seem to read into his awkwardness as his suppressed hunger resurfaces on his face and he proceeds to practically inhale the sandwiches after giving a rushed "Thanks!"

In a matter of seconds, the sandwiches have completely disappeared, leaving Ruggie both amazed and...oddly fulfilled upon seeing the Prefect’s own satisfaction from having a full stomach.

Huh...that's new.

Ruggie's been so used to pinching his and other people's pennies at this school that helping out seemingly the only other student that's in the same boat as him, even without getting anything in return, feels...nice.

Nice feelings like this are few and far in between with a lifestyle like Ruggie's, so now that he's felt it, he proceeds to chase it whenever he can.

From that day onward, Ruggie makes a point to help out the Prefect if he has the time, starting with offering him a simple snack between classes or pointing him in the right direction if he gets lost, before slowly escalating into him stepping in to haggle Sam's prices down for him and even taking his hand and physically leading him to where he needs to go, not noticing the increasingly flustered looks on the other man's face.

He doesn't know when exactly it happened, but after a while, that simple nice feeling turned into something more...warm and fuzzy that he feels blooming in his chest as he and the Prefect grow closer, finding more and more time to spend with each other, whether it being studying together or going out to the market, until one night, they find themselves gazing up at the stars on the hill just outside of Ramshackle.

Looking over at the stars reflecting in the Prefect’s eyes, Ruggie can't deny how beautiful they look. And what he also can't deny is the fact that he's grown attached their owner.

He can’t help but imagine what the future could hold for the two of them.

But then he remembers who the Prefect is.

He's an otherworlder. The one destined to leave this world behind in favor of the one where he actually belongs.

The only future that exists for Ruggie and the Prefect is one where he waves goodbye as the other man disappears into the Dark Mirror forever.

But that doesn't mean he has to be okay with it. That doesn't mean he can't still want the Prefect to stay, preferably with him.

"Can I ask you something?" Ruggie questions.

"Sure, what is it?" The Prefect responds, looking over at Ruggie, the serene expression on his face only further solidifying his feelings.

"Just out of curiosity, what would you do if you couldn't go back to your world?" Ruggie asks, noting how the other man tenses up at the question.

"W-well, I guess I'd keep going here until I graduate..." The Prefect responds in a way that doesn't fully answer Ruggie's question.

"Ok? And then what about after that?" Ruggie pushes.

".......................To be honest, I try not to think about it." The Prefect finally answers with a sigh, "People always say that graduating from here basically guarantees success in life, but how many high-ranking, high-paying jobs are actually there for someone like me in a world like this, even as a so-called 'beast tamer'? And that's not even accounting for me not having any official documentation since I wasn't born here! Hell, the most Crowley will do is cover up the fact that he has an undocumented individual among his students, so if I can't find a way to become a citizen by graduation, I'm out of luck!" He concludes while bringing his hands to his face in frustration.

Ruggie...can't say he's ever thought about that. And now he's feeling extra bad for the Prefect as he thinks of ways he might be able to help.

And it's then that he remembers a certain law in the Sunset Savanna and his trademark mischievous smile spreads across his face.

"Y'know, if citizenship's a big issue for you, we could always get married!" He blurts out, breaking the other man out of his wallowing as he chokes in surprise before letting out a laugh.

"You shouldn't joke about that!" The Prefect says with a giggle and a playful push against the hyena's shoulder.

"Hey! I'm serious!" Ruggie responds in a very unserious tone, "One of the laws in the Sunset Savanna says that if you marry one of its citizens, then you'll become a full citizen yourself!"

The Prefect's laughter dies down as he ponders this information, "Wait, really? How did THAT come about?" He asks, genuinely interested.

"Well, since it's ruled by lions, the kingdom's basically viewed as one, giant pride so being accepted by one of its members means being accepted into the pride, no questions asked." Ruggie explains.

"I feel like that leaves a lot of room for exploitation, though." The Prefect says thoughtfully.

"Hey, that works out for you, though. Doesn't it?" Ruggie says cheekily, earning another soft push against his shoulder.

"Don't act like this is set in stone already when we haven't even been on a proper date yet!" The other man argues lightheartedly.

"Well, if we're not counting all those study dates and market dates, then I guess you're right." Ruggie says bluntly, "So I'm free this Saturday if you wanna make it official."

The Prefect’s giggles stop as he looks at the hyena in surprise, who looks back at him with the first serious expression he's worn since the start of the conversation.

"I want you to know that I'm actually serious about this." Ruggie says while looking into the Prefect’s eyes, "I wouldn't throw an idea like that around willy-nilly, y'know."

The other man blinks for a couple seconds before his expression softens, "Alright, fine. How about this: IF I can't go home AND we both feel the same way after graduation, then I'll marry you. Deal?" He says while holding out his hand, clearly not fully convinced about Ruggie's conviction.

"Shishishi, deal!" The hyena says before shaking the Prefect’s hand and turning his head back towards the night sky, satisfied.

"Heh. So you're free this Saturday, huh?" The Prefect says before leaning over and pressing a kiss onto Ruggie's cheek, causing his heart rate to accelerate, "I'll look forward to it."

With heat blooming on his face, Ruggie feels that warm feeling in his chest again, but this time, he's able to put a name to it: Love.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi #twst x male reader #ruggie x male reader #ruggie x reader #twst mc #twst yuu #twst grim #why is this mushroom writing fanfics?

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strangelittlestories · 2 years

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It was in the 6th year of the Wars of the Real that the anti-magicians and their Realis project (that all should act in accordance with certain physical laws) were truly challenged. This was due in no small part due to a singular invention from a family of forest witches.

Their discovery was as ingenious as it was stupid. And it radically changed what a disparate collective was able to accomplish in the face of both overwhelming force and abstract certainty.

It also caused a truly historic amount of epic shitfuckery.

From “I Fought the Spore and the Spore Won: a history of Realis and Resistance”

- - -

“So, you’re the new recruit, huh?” The woman who spoke wore strange armour that looked like it had been grown out of wood. The helmet alone glinted with metal spikes.

“I … uh, I guess? Sorry, I’m kinda new to this whole ‘magical kingdom’ deal you’ve got going on here…” The recruit in question was wearing dull red overalls and a ‘what-the-fuck’ expression.

“No worries, kid. We put out a multiversal call for aid - so anybody with a latent magical destiny or a strong subconscious hero fantasy got pulled in. Very much a ‘To Whom It May Concern’ type of spell.”

She patted him on the shoulder. Up close he could see that the spikes on her helmet were actually the shards of a broken crown.

“So, uh, do I get any kind of training?”

“You already did, buddy. The spell should’ve planted a ‘potential seed’ inside you. When you’re exposed to trauma, then just in the nick of time it’ll suddenly sprout into the skills you need to survive. Very dramatic.” She paused for a second. “Or you’ll die. Also very dramatic.”

“So … either I’ll be awesome or I’ll die?”

“Well, you would die … unless you have one of these.” She threw him a small vial. He fumbled the catch, but grabbed it on the second try. Inside the vial swirled a glowing grey-green mist. “You catch a mortal wound, drink it. Or smash it on the injury. The fungus inside will patch you up.”

“Fungus?” The man was a pretty even split of horrified and fascinated. He simultaneously wanted to throw the vial away like poison, or guzzle it like forbidden candy.

“Yeah, you ever hear of ‘ophiocordyceps unilateralis’?”

“The weird zombie ant mushroom? Yeah, I saw it on a documentary!”

“Well, a family of witch-mycologists - real wyrd scientist types - they brewed up this variant in their forest. They turned it from a parasite to a symbiote. If it knows who you are, it’ll heal your wounds, get your heart pumping, even move your limbs for you.”

“How do I get it to know who I am?”

“You feed it.” She grinned ghoulishly. “Chuck in some hair, some blood, whatever bits of you are going spare. Anything to sync it up to your DNA. Think of it as your very own cannibal sourdough starter.”

“And people actually use this?”

“Oh yeah. Folks swear by the stuff. They even had an argument over what nickname it should have. The winner was the truly cursed phrase ‘resurrection juice’.”

“...really?”

“Oh yeah. The juice brigade are pretty smug it caught on. Some smart alec tried to give it a mushroom name, but they got one-upped by the juice thing.”

“I’m not sure I’m a fan of sharing my body with a fungus.” He tried to find the right words to articulate the niggling philosophical nuances of the idea and failed. “It feels like, I dunno, a bad idea?”

“Oh, it’s a terrible idea. A real crock of stupid. Pure idiot-fuel. But sometimes, when the world’s against you, the truly bad idea is the only one you have.”

“But, I mean, once the fungus takes over … would I still even be me?” The urge to gobble up the taboo canape had begun to be edged out by the existential dread.

“Look at it this way: you’d be mushroom food anyways, right? Why not let it be mushrooms who think they’re you? I think it’s kinda comforting that when the time comes, I can just relax and let fungus take the wheel.”

The man paused for a second, pondering the nature of life, decay, and resurrection.

“Anyways, they’ll be summoning the portal to pipe us out on our first mission soon. So best get ready.” The princess (for that’s what she was) thought for a second, then asked: “By the way … what did you do before you got sucked up into this particular asscrack, anyhow?”

The man gulped.

“I was a plumber.” He said.

#a long one but hopefully worth it #writing #flash fiction #I realised halfway through writing that this read like a grimdark mario bros fic and I just leant into that #still contains at least two puns for those keeping count

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sensitiveheartless · 9 months

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@originalaccountname holy shit Fukuchi with Statler and Waldorf tagging along and making fun of him everywhere he goes (also I did base Fukuchi's appearance off of them XD)

Statler and Waldorf have the special ability Peanut Gallery which renders them fully immune to physical damage, rendering Fukuchi's frequent attempts to murder them completely ineffective!

also THISSS oh my gosh ok I've been having thoughts—

So, you know the whole thing of people in bsd developing abilities based on trauma?

Same thing happens in this AU, but they also become muppets at the same time! So pretty much every muppet was once a human, unless they're like Adam or Elise or Demon Snow and are projections of a muppet ability user. (Adam is a robot muppet built by a muppet [dr. Wollstonecraft, very smol]. He is very comfortable with this.)

This means that Chuuya, who doesn't remember where he came from, is worried that he might be a fully artificial muppet who was never a human being to begin with. This isn't helped by the fact that he joins the Sheep, who are all humans, so for most of his teen years Chuuya has to feel weird about being the lone muppet in his group of peers. This changes a bit when he joins the mafia, because suddenly he's around a lot of fellow muppets (and Dazai, who can temporarily turn Chuuya human again, which Chuuya really hopes is proof that he was in fact human at some point)

And Verlaine IS a fully artificial muppet, created to house a singularity, and he has decided to make it everyone else's problem! He is a murder muppet, in fact. A murppet. (Also I have been cackling over "Chuuya's a real muppet you're just sad you miserable pile of felt" ever since I read it thank you so much Nawy, every time I reread it it sends me off again skfjksdfj)

...So in the end I guess I have given Chuuya the exact same crisis as in canon, just with an extra layer of existential muppet dread over the top of it all. Hmm.

And now, other comments on my previous post that I want to highlight because they have been filling me with such joy:

^I feel like that last one works really well with what I've come up with for stormbringer, because the stitches/stain can be Chuuya's proof that he did in fact exist before the lab (Mori finds records of a muppet having to be patched up after a fight with a kid) and thus was not created in the lab (although he was already a muppet)

#this is all so cursed but it's making me laugh so much #thank you guys for indulging my unhinged AU it's helping me feel lots better while I'm recovering :D #i might have to draw the verlaine-dazai interaction once i figure out what verlaine should look like as a muppet skfjskdfjsk #as long as that's cool!#it's just so good #bsd #bsd muppet au #bungou stray dogs #bsd fukuchi #my art

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bearotonin-international · 1 year

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It’s Existential Tuesday. Best to just sit tight and wait for the existential dread to pass. If it passes. Who knows if it will. Maybe time is just an illusion anyways and we’re all trapped in a never ending loop of suffering. Maybe life is all made up and none of this is real and we’re all a figment of some creature’s imagination.

#Thanks for the existential panic Patrick #We really feel that #it’s been…#well it’s been #Existential Tuesday mood #existential tuesday

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cu7ie · 1 year

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boredom.

(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و investigating a noise in an alley late at night turns into so much more. haitani ran x reader x haitani rindou. word count: 5.4k

cw; dubious consent, brief depictions of fighting and violence. spit-roasting. minor stalking (?) + intimidation, fear.

The day passes, and your boss informs you that 'your workplace attitude is contributing to a loss in morale'. Or in other words,

your coworkers have been complaining about you.

probably the customers too.

Sometimes they say things to your face, (sometimes, because most times their comments can't pierce the veil of existential dread, stagnation. Thoughts buzz around fly-like, about how there's nothing here,

nothing for you) stupid shit, because the seniors always have something to say…

("Look excited for once, rookie. People want to see pretty smiles, you look so ugly frowning.

"At least pretend you want to be here."

one of your supervisors. So far up your ass she's coming out of your mouth.

and you love old people, but she is the rickety-ist old bitch you've ever had the displeasure of knowing.

"You can get more tips if you do a little … 'extra'. You're cute, so it should be easy for you."

Random customer you don't remember asking for an opinion, you just wanted to see if they wanted refills on wine,)

You're getting tired and people are starting to notice. You don't argue, because they're right. You're not happy, and that bothers them so much, for reasons that probably don't have much to actually do with you. They care, but not really, so when you're sent home with the day's wages, the boss tells you in a not-so-nice way to clean up your act.

Don't be so sad. (Or rather, make sure they don't know about it.)

You collect your things and opt for the long walk home. Shibuya's streets are empty (ish) and peaceful about this time of night.

The wind whistles.

It threads between the leaves of trees that hadn't yet died, providing you some company,

The noise. And maybe you're paranoid, unused to walking without headphones (you dumped the contents of your bag to check, you either lost them or left them at home), unused to seeing

the empty streets when there's usually a dozen hawkers flagging down passerby to sample wares. Because you're starting to hear something.

(First, you think it's your mind that makes the wind sound like whispers, moving smoothly along the shell of your ear. Some imagined ramblings. But that's not it at all.

There's actually someone here. Or people. Nearby.)

For once, you're certain you're not crazy. You're definitely hearing something. You don't want to look behind you, but you do just to avoid any creeps who might be lurking. The sound of chatter grows the slightest bit more intense, and —

KLANG!

A brilliant crash (definitely not behind you) that sounds like metal bashing into something just as tough, the residual sound causing your ears to ring. It , unlike many things recently, intrigued you.

You've never possessed an interest in gangs. Never have been.

(This whole situation reeks of them, though. You either don't think or you don't care—)

Not interested in their whereabouts, potential people of interest, they don't make you curious (or maybe it's a privilege to not be curious),

What happens to them never really concerns you.

So why now, are you stepping in front of this alleyway? Why did you choose that this time, on a frigid night walk home, you'll be interested. You'll be concerned with the sounds of commotion in the alley.

… This feels like boredom. It feels like exhaustion has pushed you to your limit. You crave dissent. Novelty, actually being a part of something. Maybe you need it so desperately that in this moment,

You reach out to touch the darkness. A gaping maw of shadow. Light does not enter and it does not escape. This place looks a bit like

Those kinds of places, where you could go missing. Get lost. In some kind of adventure, and that ambition clamps down on that drowning anxiety, making you feel quite bold. Nobody will know you came here. (Nobody will know that, in spite of the pit in your stomach, in spite of the fear, in spite of the sweat in your palm, the tremble in your knees,

you stepped forward.) The shadow swallows you up to your ankle, then your body is engulfed in the darkness.

You've never disappeared before. You think it'll be okay (hopefully), that it might fulfill something within you that's been desperately missing; maybe it'll be better than

being safe,

than being

comfortable.

Just a quick peek. You'll only be gone for a second.

(you think the voices get louder and you shift, narrowly avoiding a shallow bacteria laden puddle, using the wall to quickly navigate while placing emphasis on not being seen by anyone if they happened to run past. You don't hear movement, but the talking gets louder as you get closer, and closer, and closer, and …)

(The talking has become more like shouting, and the silence from before has been replaced by the sound of a fierce impact, cracking, crashing, more yelling. Everything is loud now, the moon and street light cascading down on the scene but not revealing your position, flattened against the alley wall.)

"Rinnie.." A tall fellow sighs, his shoulders sagging forward with effort, and ‘Rinnie’ a good ways away from him looking crazy with some sort of excitement. The tall one, dead amused eyes and two braids pigtails framing his face, dark roots growing towards blond tips.

The little one is the kind of bleach - platinum - blonde, maybe a shade or two less yellow. He shares a similar look to the man standing adjacent to him, but his hair is frizzy and wild, sticking to his forehead. The tall one looks scuffed up and his eyes look tired, betraying the hint of a lip curl, a smile, maybe?

What exactly did you stumble onto? You lean in closer to catch the words that fall from their mouths, careful not to step onto the bottles and cans discarded on the ground.

"Rin rin, you might kill him before we can learn anything useful." ‘Rin’, is the belligerent one, his fist dully thudding and knocking across the face of an unknown man sprawled out on the floor, who doesn’t appear to be moving. The man must already be unconscious, or worse- dead - the flurry of blows not affecting him in any way you can discern from here.

"Ahaha! But Ran, this is really fun!"

Thwack! Rin’s right knuckle catches on the man’s cheek, his other fist flying with assuredness and dead-on accuracy towards his stomach.

It is only then that the body groans, and his struggling renewed somewhat. Rin’s arm pulls back with poisonous intent, all the muscles in his fist perfectly poised to,

Hurt and maim.

Ran hooks Rin’s arm in his wrist and drags him off of their victim, who lies cowering before them, too weak to flee or do much but shake like a leaf.

"Okay. Okaaaaay. Now you're making it no fun." Ran drags Rin to his feet; doesn't respond with anything other than a snort and a shove. Rin only barely avoids flying into some refuse, his distress blowing his pupils as big as saucers, easing into relief as he stumbles and catches his balance. They look like a fever dream in the streetlights, an anomaly that should have remained hidden from you and walking down this alley has never felt like a utterly terrible idea until now - They drag the man to the side of the building and prop him up. They smile at one another, as though there’s a joke lingering in the air that nobody’s let you in on.

It makes you shiver.

Just as cold shakes start to wrack your body, your teeth chitter for a fraction of a second; just a bit too loudly. Their heads begin to turn. Directly facing away from the light, their expressions are encased in darkness,

And while you thought they may be drunk or delirious, or both, the mood shifts neigh instantly, and you frantically clasp your hand over your mouth and stop breathing. They are looking dead at you. You don’t know if their pause is because they don’t exactly see you but instead, shadow, but your arms tense up and feel like coiled springs attached to your shoulders; legs trembling trying to maintain balance and not fall and make a sound.

You don’t move.

Your eyes burn because you don’t blink and you’re sweating, lying in anxious wait. They don’t close in at once, because when Rin says “Ran,” that dastardly tree of a man lumbers towards the mouth of the alley and,

He, who is not fooled by the darkness,

Dragging you out flailing, on your back and dragging your nice leather jacket across gunky, disgusting pavement -

You gasp as the tall one forces you to your feet, shoving your back into a wall and evacuating the air from your lungs. You immediately launch into a frantic explanation, your lip blubbering and your body shaking and your eyes wandering to that man up against the wall - who takes advantage of their utter fascination with you, and tries to crawl off.

Rin kicks him in the ribs and sends him sprawling. Back to you, being held up by your neck, lightly enough that he’s not choking you, and you can breathe and speak freely. Their eyes narrow at you, the baton slung on the tall one’s hip looking none too friendly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” “Shut up.” Considering your franticness he sounds quite playful, although the growing pressure behind his grip is not friendly in the slightest. He squeezes your throat and Rin is the one who laughs then, slithering up to your side and giving you a long, long look up and down. “You’ve interrupted some important business here,” He says, gesturing to the battered man with his open hand, “But you think yourself more important, huh? Quite a pesky little shit aren't ya?" Ran finishes the statement, and the look you fix him with is frantic, wild eyed. “But that’s okay. Clearly you have something important to share." Rin smiles coolly. His demeanor unsettles you, (feels like his eyes pierce you, makes your heart pound out of your chest, your fingers tremble,) your mind is screaming to go far away. “So tell us,” The tall one hisses through an artificial smile, coldly amused, voice rough on the ears, “Who are you, and what’s in it for us if we let you go?” Rin slides a finger down the side of your waist, making you shiver. “I .. uh..” “Uh? Uhm? That doesn’t sound like any name I've ever heard of.” They laugh at you, and something about their ridicule triggers something in you… tired of being harangued and hung out to dry, mounting tension threatening to collapse you. Your legs buckle. You feel yourself begin to cry.

"Aww. Don't cry… we were just playing with you." Ran leans uncomfortably close, wet sheen on your cheeks glimmering in dim light. Rin sees his brother lick a slow stripe up your cheek, doesn't say anything. You whimper, petrified.

Ran's eyes bore into yours. "Who are you?"

You tell them your name. "I … I wait tables! I was just trying to get home from work I - I - I-"

"Through back alleys? It's like you're asking to get hurt." The one named Rin mutters, and Ran, who seems wise to your lies, presses you.

"You weren't getting home anytime soon, hunched over in that alleyway. You were watching us." He moves from in front of you and grasps the back of your skull, forcing you to stare at the battered man a few feet away. "Do you know him?"

You shake your head frantically.

"Then why the fuck are you here?"

"I just - I heard something. I heard something and I thought, I thought .." You struggle to find the words to describe your thought process. Rin helps you out.

"You must've thought: 'Oh, those guys must be having so much fun! I want to play too!'. " The blonde mocks the lilt of your voice. The one with the pigtails barks out laughter, pulls your head back until your neck bends, staring you in your eyes. "Our … friend over there is all played out. But,"

"You're not. Playing with you for a bit sounds fun. Oh, Rin?"

"We should walk our new friend home. Seems like the polite thing to do, yes? Wouldn't want them to get hurt. There's dangerous people lurking at this hour." His smile is particularly wicked, your anxiety mounting.

"Sure thing, Ran."

….

They call someone else to take care of the man, ( you can't tell if he's still alive - they usher you out of that liminal space expeditiously,) terribly eager to dip into something else that night. You tell them your address at their goading, the two men leading you through alley's and backroads you never even knew about. As you exit the dark, the moon can be seen from where you've emerged from in-between buildings, faces of the men surrounding you lighting up at once.

It's hard to describe the emotion you feel upon meeting eyes with such striking faces. Distinctly similar, uniqueness to be found in both, (Ran looks nonchalant, at ease in his movement. Rin remains stern and orderly above all, offsetting his brother’s lack of care,)

When you talk to them, they don't divulge anything personal, not even their names, (they know you know them already) but you notice they seem more interested in you than you'd expect them to be, taking turns asking questions, fixing one another with this look whenever you answer a question a certain way. It’s nice to have people listen to you - or at least do a good job pretending. They don’t seem … as threatening as they did in the alley.

Rin is more cordial and polite, and talks to you more emphatically than Ran does. He seems unbothered by your chatter, but is less active of a participant.

From what they observe, you seem to be a particular person. Even though you are scared (your fear, it makes you look so beautiful, vulnerable), you aren't boring. You're not trying to impress them, but they find themselves intrigued regardless.

They fish for information.

You are an open book.

They learn more about where you work and the assholes that run the joint. They learn about your small family. They learn about how you don't have many friends. You mention you used to have a roommate, although -

"She moved away, maybe a couple months back." You talk without fear now, acclimated to their presence for the time being, for your sanity's sake.

"Oh? How sad." Rindou says, and a part of you feels like he's mocking you.

Ran makes the mental note that you live alone. They've begun walking closer to you, occasionally bumping into you on purpose because they know you won't complain or argue about it. Ran's hand slips into your back pocket while you're talking to Rindou, and the expression of shock, then embarrassment as you feel him squeeze—

"You were saying?" Rin glances at you.

"Yeah, sorry - uh… " Your face burns (you know Rin knows what’s happening, you see the way his eyes narrow, you see his lip twitch) and you don't know how to recover so you don't say anything. It's a safe option; he doesn't badger you.

For a few minutes, your moonlit walk is dead quiet. Rin doesn't touch you, but Ran has hooked his arm around your waist and is poking his fingers into the top of your jeans. You don't do anything to stop him.

His fingers are fast and he is not courteous he is not polite,

when the palm of his hand zips down and two fingers stroke your clit you gasp. Ran tugs on your waist and your hip bumps his a little as he slowly runs his finger over that sensitive piece of flesh. You feel like your skin burns where his finger meets your clit, and you can't suppress your whine as he pushes on it,

(It's like your body jumped out of your skin and he was striking a nerve, raw. You're on fire you're on fire you're on fire)

And Rin only looks straight ahead, his mouth opening like he wants to say something -

But your building is coming into view.

You gesture to your side of the complex (Ran takes his hand out of your pants, for now) and they walk you inside the building, patiently wait for the elevator with you,

And you are suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of your emotion; which upon retrospection, felt like your brain had gone numb. Your stunningly composed self becomes a trainwreck in the four elevator stops (and short walk) it takes to get to your apartment. You feel dizzy with how hot your body has gotten and how tight and uncomfortable even your skin feels,

And you're mewling and whining,

"Th-thanks for walking me home," many flustered thanks, appreciative hugs, trying to wave them away from the door, but they get inside before you do (when Rin whispers ´Let me help you’, your skin gets goosebumps and you toss him the key), and act as if for a moment they were the kind of people that you'd want in your house.

Rin is commenting on your art, 'critiquing' (shaming) your arrangements and decor, touching nothing, taking up no space,

While Ran is on everything, everywhere, all at once. He's opening your fridge and taking out the drink you were trying to save for later, flipping through the tabs you left on your computer and,

Maybe they could be friends, with the way they both get so comfortable. But eventually their eyes start drifting over,

to you. Sat on your couch, house burning down around you, you've gone too far, too deep, and they are not going to let you go. (it's not like that was the plan, anyway).

…

Ran mentioned something about playing earlier, didn't he? You hadn't a mind to negotiate a 'fair exchange' for them walking you home on such a dark night. Maybe you hoped they'd just forget about it.

(They don't. You know because before they make you show them where the bedroom is, Ran pokes his fingers through the belt loops on your jeans and tells you how much of a courtesy he brought you back, he could have fucked you and left you in the alley.

"But I didn't." Ran smiles, and you can only imagine what Rin's face looks like. Though, you can feel him on your back, grinding his erection into you.

"Just relax." Rin leans to your ear, lips close enough to kiss the shell of it. "We'll play nice, won't we Ran?"

The aforementioned laughs once, reaching for your belt buckle. "Speak for yourself." )

Your bedroom isn’t terribly small but your massive mattress takes up most of the space. Ran doesn’t care about kicking around your things to get to the bed easier, dipping down and baring his teeth to your neck, nibbling. Rindou does not knock over a thing (he picks up a figurine that you hadn’t noticed had turned over, flicks on your lamp, mutters something) walking between your door and hurrying himself along to the bed alongside Ran.

At that point, you’ve already been undressed from the waist down, your clothing discarded on your living room couch. You’ve been pushed back first onto your bed, Ran is on top kissing you with the feverishness of a school boy, his tongue slipping into your mouth (which surprised you, your pussy throbbed a little) and his hand slipping down towards your cunt.

You make a mewling sound as he rubs circles on your clit, and Rin groans loud enough for you to remember he’s still here, “Jackass, you’ve been hogging them the whole night. You said-” Ran pulls back molasses-slow, fixing Rindou with a look you can’t read. “I know what I said. You don’t have to get so emotional over it, Rin. See?” He pushes himself up on his arms and leaves you there, gesturing with a sweeping motion. “I was just getting them ready for you.” Rin snorts, grabbing your arms. “Whatever. Now, you.” Your eyes meet, but the intensity in his is unlike Ran’s. Something about him seems more driven. Came here for something, refusing to leave without it. “Flip over. Get on your stomach. Make sure your head is hanging off the bed.” You don’t hesitate to do as he says.

Ran steps into your view, tugging on the band of his boxers until his cockhead is visible from the top. You try not to drool. He pushes his cock between your pillowy lips, letting out a long low whistle.

"Just relax. Open your mouth a little wider - that's it - just like that .." Ran is already groaning and barely half his dick is inside your mouth, but drool is racing down your chin and you have forgotten how to breathe out of your nostrils. He cups the back of your head.

"Eyes up." Tears sting at your eyes at your lack of oxygen and Ran just smiles dreamily downward at you, his brother out of your sight entirely. Now you’re as bare as the day you were born, courtesy of Ran, and you nearly forget about Rin until you feel firm hands spreading your legs; a damp muscle wriggle and work it's way in between your folds so boldly,

You cry out, groaning on Ran's cock. It's too big and your jaw has to work and strain and it hurts but he makes you do it anyway (his smell is rich between his legs, and he keeps reminding you to breathe through your nose), telling you how much of a good job you're doing.

"... you're good at this. I didn't think you were a slut though… maybe …"

"It's just a natural talent. Like you were born to suck dick."

He thrusts his hips and holds your face so that he's in your throat, and no matter how hard you beat at his thighs he does not give. You wiggle and squirm, Rin's hands clamping around your hips and giving you less room to breathe. You're so occupied with the dick in your mouth that you don't notice how wet Rin has gotten you.

His brother has all your attention. Even when he stands at attention and lines himself up, you don't notice. It's only when he's pulling your hips towards his, that you feel the blunt head of his cock probing at your pussy and waiting for a good moment to

Thrust in, and as Ran pulls you off his cock to cum on your face, it's a perfect opportunity for Rin to pull you onto him, and the squeal you let out sounds absolutely delicious, (made his balls clench). He begins tentatively, resting a hand at the small of your back, and thrusting into you with as much force as he can muster behind his hips, enjoying hearing you whine and whimper (perhaps more than he expected). Your body is hot to the touch and your back is a little slick with your sweat.

Rin grunts with effort as he tries to fuck into you, getting some give as you grow weak in the hips. His cock feels like it's tearing you up, like he might break you before he night is done and the more you moan and squirm the rougher he gets, the slick sounds of his balls slapping against your clit drowning out the sound of your own thoughts.

(Ran has fun with you. You lick his cock clean as Rin speeds up so much he's practically fucking the breath out of your lungs. Your ass feels battered, your pussy abused —)

Rin has been noticeably quiet most of this time. Too focused on the sound of your yelps and the way your body dances beneath his fingertips. You move so much. He likes the little defiance in you. He has no problem fucking it out.

You grow to gripping Ran's legs for support cause you can't hold yourself up on the bed, the tingling burning feeling of strain zinging up the muscles in your legs.

“Ah! Oooh..” They’re teaching you new things about yourself. Wherever they caress you, the back of your head, along your spine, on your hips, it’s like you’ve been alight with fire. Ran makes sure you’re looking at him, and he’s cooing at you, feeding you crumbs of praise as he strokes under your chin affectionately. Your heart jumps a little at the fond look he gives you, the approval is pronounced and makes you feel warm and anxious all of the sudden, moreso when Ran presses a kiss to your temple.

"Almost." Rin says to no one in particular, his grip just shy of bruising. "Just … fuck." Rin slams your hips into his, his spine stiffening as he fucks a load inside you, pulling his cock out slow so he can see himself dripping down your legs.

What followed feels a little uncertain. You know they stuck around, but their words felt floaty and distant, fucked into a stupor, you seemed a bit … dotty. (Ran thinks it's cute. You don't talk, don't ask questions, just let them pet you. But Rin liked the tension in your muscles, that skeptic's gaze, that substance. Something about having you like this appeals to him, just less.) They came hot like a fever and left you feeling ice cold.

Rin, perhaps feeling sweet, helps you slip your nighty on before Ran is forcing him out of the door, chastising him for being so soft.

You wouldn't know.

You awake in a sea of blankets, with a salty taste in your mouth and this dull ache zapping up your spine…

You are late for work the next morning, but even as your alarm gets grating and beep, beep beeps a few feet away from your head, you're trying to shake off day dream after day dream — you get up when you realize your door was left unlocked, you rectify that, head back to bed. The supervisor who's in charge of arranging your schedule calls you, ten minutes before you are supposed to come in, and you are still lying down.

You honest to god do not have the heart to tell this withering old man over the phone that you can’t come in today. You can hear his voice sort of trembling over the phone (and you later learn that one of the head chefs quit earlier that day, this poor guy is this close to the edge) and decide you don’t need that weighing on your conscience in the future, a good enough reason to force labor upon yourself for the day. You feel weightless sitting in the tub washing off the prior night. In some places you can see indentations from fingers, lightly bruised skin around your hips, that your hands run over with your loofah and that sweet smelling body scrub,

You take your time, not urged by the ringing of your phone or alarm. Your mind decompresses and feels loosened by the steam that rises to the top of the room, fogging up your vision and keeping you warm even when you step out of the bath. Since last night, you notice you seem a lot more one track minded. There’s no dreading the shift, or fear about being asked to stay for overtime, or worry that your coworkers are going to say something to you (they always do, so fucking annoying). There’s nothing. Your head feels manageably empty. Something about it is relaxing, your underlying nervousness of ‘ Is there something i’m missing? Have I forgotten something? Am I doing something wrong?’ all gone.

You’re smiling in the cab to work. Maybe it’s been years since you went there having a positive expectation for today, you can’t remember and you don’t care. You work your shift and ignore your coworkers, boss and customers. They comment, because of course they have something to say.

“You look glowy. Something happen?”

“... I slept well?” Your supervisor rolls her eyes at you, but doesn’t belabor the point. “Must’ve been one helluva good night’s sleep, huh?”

You don’t respond, ready to clock out in the next thirty minutes, hoping and praying nobody keeps you from clocking out at 8:00, because the day’s been going sooo good for you so far,

But one of the managers ends up running in; out of breath, trying frantically to stop the kitchen staff from closing down for the night, from leaving. You’re stopped in lieu of all the commotion. Apparently some big-wigs from the city came in to eat, and would not accept the owner’s hurried apologies of ‘I’m sorry, but the kitchen is closing for the night,’; or their attempts at placation: ‘We can accept your patronage first thing tomorrow? A bottle of wine on the house?’. The owner looks frightened half to death by the time he comes across you, shocking you with the abruptness of his request.

“The… the patrons. Do you know them?” He whispers, deathly close to your ear. His lungs sound like they might collapse, and he looks hot and uncomfortable. “They requested you by name. I-i know you don’t like working overtime, but this could mean big tips.” You roll your eyes. “Move over man. Let me get my menus.” He clasps his hand together in prayer and in thanks, and you mentally prepare yourself to take an order for a much larger party.

There’s only two people sitting in the booth as you walk up, their silhouettes triggering your memory immediately. Ran turns lightning-quick, his expression giddy unlike anything else. He looks so pleased with himself, licking his lips like he’s slick as your confident power walk slows to a few steps.

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice is so smooth, makes your ears tingle. Rindou is sat next to him, and looks up at you fondly for a moment. Looks back down at his hands after.

“So, Rin. Ran.” They look a little surprised you actually said their names, but Ran gives you a toothy grin, and leans a bit further forward.

“Here are your menus.” You set them down on the table, allow them to pursue the selection. “I’ll be back with your water.” You about face, looking nothing short of cool, level-headed professionalism. On the inside, you are screaming. Telling them so much maybe was a bad idea in hindsight, (because not only is this OT blowing you, but it’s hard to look them in the eyes, for a reason you haven’t yet grasped.) you sigh, trying to make it out of the end of dinner service without your heart giving in.

You try not to be curt with them but a part of you can’t help it. Ran knows what he’s gunning for, eyes alight with desire as he stares at you up and down in uniform for the first time. Like he’s just about ready to eat you up. He keeps staring at your lips. Rindou is ever the gentleman, is patient with you when you get flustered by Ran’s boldness, occasionally apologizing for the inappropriate comments he sprinkles in. From the moment he’s seen you, to the moment you take his order, serve him the food, give him the bill, he’s flapping his gums.

Rindou seems irritated by this at some point, fixing him with hot hard glares, kicking him under the table and eventually telling him to BE QUIET.

He says it with so much authority that when Ran gets as meek as a mouse, you can’t help but giggle from behind your palm. (Ran shoots you a look, but you ignore it.) Other than what he’s saying to you - working this job, you’ve heard far worse anyway - it’s not a hassle to deal with, maybe just a little awkward,

Because he says shit like:

“Hey sweetheart. There’s another kind of tip I could give you, too.” After he slides nearly half a stack into your uniform pants just because he can. That was probably (definitely) more money than both of their meals combined.

“Hey!” The tall one shouts from the threshold, a little drunk, and swaying from Rin tugging on his arm so hard.

“Maybe.. You get out of your little uniform and meet us outside. We’ll walk you home again.” You don’t say anything, but your face is burning.

“Maybe i’ll take you up on that offer. Some other time.” You bow politely and hurry back to the storage rooms, where your coworkers are packing up their things and heading out the back.

You sigh, taking your time changing out of your work uniform.

…

Imagine your surprise when you’re walking out, head down as you look in your bag and make sure everythings arranged how you like, easily accessible ..

And they’re still there.

Waiting for you.

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