y’all i literally never have omegaverse thoughts but here i am having omegaverse thoughts (i blame witcher fic, characters who can smell emotions are just too damn juicy *shakes fist* ineeeeex!)
omegaverse fics where characters can parse individual emotions from specific people in addition to a personal base scent are confusing for me, logistically. you know? like as a trope, they’re amazing and convenient and they lead to fascinating little complications in communication and i eat that shit up with a spoon, but like. how does it work??
so then i’m thinking, okay, obviously it’s something you pick up naturally using cues from your family as a child, and your friends and classmates as your social circle widens as you age. the way we pick up slang or body language irl, right? that could work. you know what happiness smells like because it’s what your mother smells like when your dad comes home with flowers. you know what sadness smells like when your friend at school is allergic to chocolate so they can’t have any of benji’s birthday cupcakes. that kind of thing. but it’s all semi-unconscious, and some people have gaps as they grow up because they’ve never been exposed to something before
my point being, where is my fic where steve is driving dustin to the snowball and he gives the kid a few last minute pieces of advice and promises to be there to pick him up later and dustin gives him that big bright gummy smile and the car fills up with…what the hell is that? i mean it smells good? but steve’s never smelled anything like it. maybe in passing, but never directed at him and definitely not so strong. the hell is this kid feeling?
and he doesn’t ask, doesn’t want to look stupid, so he just tells dustin not to do that weird growling thing again and boots him out of the car, but he keeps smelling it. on dustin, mostly, but also the other kids sometimes, once even on mrs. henderson when she had to work an overnight and he told her it was no trouble at all to stay on the couch and keep dusty company. and it’s so weird and he doesn’t understand it at all but it doesn’t seem bad, or dangerous, so it’s probably fine?
and then he asks robin out on a bathroom floor and gets shot down immediately, and he pivots on a dime and rearranges his whole worldview for her in about ten seconds, and he’s halfway through a chorus of total eclipse of the heart when that scent swells again, soured a little by the drugs but big enough to fill the whole bathroom. and he doesn’t ask until after, until all the dust is settled and things are calm even if they’re broken beyond repair, but he doesn’t mind looking stupid in front of robin, really, so it’s okay to ask.
and she gives him this look, like he just took his nailbat to her heart, and then she flings herself at him and hugs him tighter than anyone ever has in his life, and she explains. and then he’s crying too
where is my fic where steve doesn’t know what love smells like
(well, turns out the fic is here)
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This drabble is born from a really angsty brain riot with Bonten's origins, that happened to me after reading this words from @just-sp-in-inginthevoid :
"Bonten is a memorial for Izana, its symbol, its members’ tattoo come from Izana’s earrings and the (天) ten of Bonten 梵天 from Tenjiku 天竺, the (梵) bon of Bonten 梵天 comes from Brahman 梵. (...) There’s no need for Senju to have the same role as Izana in Bonten if she’s not dead."
(I always pictured Senju being death in that timeline, but the reality of the kanjis being literally THAT... ajfshgsjgejgrjg, the pain of this. Wakui, you know how to break us every timeline! 😭)
Bonten was born from pain.
(drabble of the day that Bonten was created)
Warnings: I'm so sorry, this is just angst and hurt/no comfort. I wrote it as an attempt of coping with canon and how painful is Bonten timeline when you actually look closer to it. It's from Koko's POV and everyone is just broke and devastated in their own way. Again, I'm so sorry :(
(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)
Most people think Bonten is synonymous with fear.
But they are all wrong. Kokonoi knows better.
Bonten is synonymous with pain, it was born in it.
He still remembers the day that Bonten was created, even if it wasn't the official date, any of the executives would pinpoint the exact same moment.
Probably, only Koko could actually offer a coherent narrative of that night. The only outsider of all the chaos unraveling in front of him.
He still has nightmares of what he saw. But is not what happened what haunts him, no. Is the voices, the faces surrounding him.
Wakasa covered in blood, his eyes looking completely empty. His blank stare, like he couldn't believe who this blood belonged to. Benkei's hand on his friend shoulder, tearing up like a baby.
Takeomi curled up in the floor, sobbing next to his sister's body. Saying “it should've been me” over and over, the older man stuck in a loop of guilt and denial.
The former members of Tenjiku looking shocked, not moving a finger for what was supposed to be their gang, their leader. Koko spent enough time with them to know that, even if they were ruthless, seeing the leader of another gang being shot like that... Was too familiar.
Anyone who looked at them could see they never agreed with that. The ghost of Izana Kurokawa still lingered over them.
Kakucho was shaking, his lips trembling. The rain and the blood mixing with red snow in the scarred boy's mind.
The Haitani brothers unconsciously getting closer to each other. Ran pulling his arm around Rindou in a protective way, the younger one allowing it without complains. Both of them staring at Sanzu, terrified with the possibility of being on the pinkette boy place.
Sanzu's screams were the worst of it. The excruciating pain in his voice while he was holding Senju's body. His little sister's body. How he looked at Takeomi, tears rolling down his cheeks, his gaze filled with hate when he spoke to his older brother “I agree, it should've been you.”
Mikey standing there, the void in his eyes while his knuckles kept dripping with South blood. The man's body at his feet.
That gaze, dark and lacking of any emotion. Pure void that swallowed everything around.
(That swallowed them, trapped them like moths that flied too close to the sun)
Bonten was born from pain.
Bonten grew in pain, thrived with it.
And, Kokonoi is sure that whatever destiny awaits for them...
Bonten will die in pain.
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Shocker another Logan angst drabble!! This one is heartbreak themed!!!
CW: Intense Depression, mentions of SH and $u!c!d£
Stay safe. This one is heavy.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
It’s funny how they call it heartbreak.
Not because the heart doesn’t actually break, no.
It does break.
It breaks the second you see that text message. That god forsaken photo.
You feel the sharp pieces of this vital internal organ that is meant to keep you alive literally shattering inside of your chest, slicing everything in its path with pure unadulterated sorrow.
It feels like a stab wound.
Your lungs feel tight and they constrict and squeeze. You inhale deeply, trying to pull oxygen into your lungs.
And god you wish for nothing more than for the pain to just stop.
You pray for a stab in the chest, because at least then you have a physical reason to feel that pain, and not just a collection of pixels on your iPhone screen.
No.
It’s funny they call it heartbreak because it’s describing in such a simple word, exactly what happens behind the shield of flesh and ribs as you try to process the information in front of you.
It’s such a complex emotion, one that only stems from the most intense feelings and grief. One that usually happens without any warning.
That’s part of what makes it so effective as a predator of the heart. You never see it coming. It’s like a bobcat stalking it’s prey, waiting for it to let it’s guard down before it goes for the killing strike.
You wonder if animals experience heartbreak as intensely as humans.
It’s ironic that the most critical part of the body, the organ that keeps you alive and is protected by its own castle of bone, can be affected so harshly by things as simple as emotions and feelings.
You wonder if it’s a flaw of development.
Heartbreak comes with it a lot of cruel realizations and assumptions.
That you weren’t enough. That you were too late. That you needed to try harder. That all of eager hoping was for absolutely nothing. That you wasted your damn time curling in your own bed fantasizing that additional warmth beside you during the lonelier nights.
You realize you will never be the same again.
Ever.
Almost as if your genetic code changes, the sheer pain of your heartstrings tearing altering your DNA and mutating.
And it’s not just something you feel in the moment.
No.
This will be following you like a shadow for awhile now, clawing at your heart, trying to rip it even more. Trying to get the blood to bleed out, the organ crying red. Trying to run your body ragged and dry.
And god you want to let it.
God.
You want to let it.
.-.-.-.-.
Logan blinked as his thoughts finally ebbed away into the back of his mind for a brief moment, sparing him for the first time of the mental agony since he opened the photo message from Oscar.
If you showed it’s contents to anyone one else, they would comment on how it was cute, innocent even.
But for Logan it was the just the nail in his coffin, slamming in with an echo and condemning him to his home six feet under.
It was a picture of Lando and Oscar in Australia. The Aussie was grinning at the camera as he held it up, while the Brit had his lips pressed against the tan and speckled cheek of the other man.
It was captioned “Guess who’s got a boyfriend?!!!”
Logan had left it on read for the entire time he zoned out, his hands shaking until the screen faded dark from lack of use.
He took a deep breath as he swallowed, trying to pull himself together just enough to reply and not look suspicious.
Because now he could never let anyone know about his feelings.
He didn’t want the pity or sympathy. He just wanted to move on, he just wanted to breathe easy again.
He wanted to go back in time the last 30 minutes and throw himself from his hotel balcony so he’d leave this Earth without ever learning this information.
But alas, God has never been so merciful to him.
He was eventually able to send a short reply of “That’s awesome, mate! Happy for you!💪” throat burning at how the lie felt on his tongue.
Because there was not a single amount of truth in his response. He was anything but happy and this was anything but awesome.
But it was too late.
God dammit it was too late.
Just like on the track, he was too fucking slow.
Maybe that was just his god damn destiny in life. Maybe he was just fucking meant to be the second choice, the one on the back, the one in the dust, the one picked last, the slowest one.
Look at him world! Number 21 in a 20 driver competition!
Are you fucking proud of him?!!
Logan couldn’t hold back the pained laugh in his throat, tears streaming down his face as he clutched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
He hoped he would pierce the skin.
His mournful laughs turned into sorrowful sobs, his body folding forward into the soft surface of his comforter, letting the fluffy fabric swallow his noises of agony.
He just let himself unravel like a newly purchased skein of yarn, tumbling off of the work surface and spiraling out of control. When it will finally be wrapped back up, it will never be as pristine as it once was.
He’s not sure how long he stays like that. Just letting himself bathe in the pain he felt. But he was aware of what drug him out of it.
A soft buzz. Like a bee breaking through the first quiet of winter into spring.
Logan lifts his head, face hot and sticky with thick tears as he reaches for his phone.
It’s a message from Alex.
“Are you okay?” It reads.
Logan chokes on a sob at the question, shaking his head to answer it to himself as he slid open on it to answer.
He tries to think of something intelligent to say in response. But he just can’t.
So instead, he takes a simplistic route.
“No.”
It doesn’t take long for him to get a reply from the Brit, the words on the screen making him whimper as he carelessly chucked his phone off of the bed, not even flinching to the sound of it hitting the floor.
“I’ll be right there.”
He hopes the impact broke it.
Logan curls into his teal and orange Miami blanket as he waits for the eventual arrival of Alex. The Brit had a key to his flat, so he knew he could get in on his own, which the American was thankful for at the time.
The night melds together during that time. Seconds and minutes and hours become unrecognizable.
He’s hardly even aware of the burning tears on his cheeks still flowing, or the soft whisper of Alex arriving into his room, a chilled bottle of water in his hands as he steps into the darkened space, full attention on the American.
Logan really isn’t sure what happens after that. Nor does he care. His mind has been overloaded and as a result it’s shut down. It needs rebooting. The browser inside his head needs to be refreshed.
God if only it was that easy to erase the happenings of their lives. To just tap a garbage bin icon and never have to see it again.
Except Logan will have to see it again.
He’ll have to put on a brave face and interact with Oscar and Lando. He’ll have to bear the pain of reliving the pain of memories he used to treasure, and grieving for the ones he will never be able to turn from fiction to reality.
But tonight, in the dark of his room, aside from the light of a television cartoon illuminating the space, Logan could be weak. He didn’t need to put on a brave face and pretend he wasn’t hurting.
And so he was. He let himself be taken into Alex’s arms as the Brit soothes him with whispers and hums, comforting the broken hearted boy in front of him that he had come to care about like a brother.
He would get through the night. That was a guarantee.
But Logan had no clue how he would face the next day.
Week.
Month.
Year.
And he had no clue if he would survive them either.
He tried to focus on the firm warmth of Alex’s body, distracting himself from the demons inside of his mind. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he had calmed down to some degree. But when that was, he had no idea.
At that very moment though, one thought had been prevalent in Logan’s head, ricocheting around his skull and echoing its message repeatedly.
I don’t want to live through this.
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Well... I was having brain riot and making fun of Sanzu's silliest moment ever (the train xD), because I always thought it was hilarious that he planed something so chaotic that could go so wrong so easily (yeps, ignoring the implications of who he was willing to sacrifice for Mikey). And suddenly, I thought "What if no one stopped him and everything went the worst way possible?"
And bam, this drabble was in my mind and I needed to write it and share this pain. I'm so sorry.
Hits Different
(this is a train wreck)
(drabble)
(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)
Summary: Apparently, when it comes to the Sanos a train wreck and a plane crash aren't that different.
Warnings: Manga Spoilers. Angst. Hurt/No Comfort. I'm pretty sure the summary itself is a big warning of where this is going. Expect only pain and a broken Sanzu. I'm so sorry, really.
(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)
Sanzu looks around, a big grin on his face. He did it, he managed to derail the train and ran over the pests that dared to compare themselves to his king.
Their irritating noise sounds a lot better turned into screams while he walks katana in hand, admiring his work. A familiar pink hair tries to steal his attention from the corner of his eye, but Sanzu doesn't stop. He's an only child, why would he care to check if she's even breathing?
There is only one thing that matters, only one focus on his mind amongst the bloodshed that he created. Mikey. Making Mikey proud, being finally acknowledged for what he's capable of doing. Earning his rightful place next to the king.
Sanzu turns his head when he hears an annoying voice screaming. Hanagaki. That fucking cockroach survived. He approaches to him, clenching his hand around the katana, decided to finish the job.
He's going to do it, he feels the adrenaline, a smirk plastered on his face now that he's finally close enough. Close enough to recognize the blonde head sticking out of Hanagaki's arms.
No.
No. It can't be. No, no, no, no. How? This can't be, Mikey was on the top of a container, he planed everything, he made sure, he... No, no, no!
Suddenly, reality hits him and Haruchiyo's world comes crashing down. Whatever delusion was feeding his mind disappears, he can't breathe. He looks around gasping for air and all he can see is blood, body parts scattered around. People screaming in pain, the smell of death.
Wakasa. Benkei. Senju.
Senju.
It's a fucking carnage and it's his fault. This was what he wanted. But it wasn't, it wasn't, this is not what it was supposed to happened. Why is this happening?
Haruchiyo's body collapses, his legs don't answer him anymore. The katana falls to the ground next to him. He pukes, completely horrified by the views. He's breaking, shaking, crying, unable to control himself.
“Mikey... No... He wasn't supposed to be down here...Mikey...”
His voice is weak, the words don't even make sense between whimpers. But Hanagaki looks at him, still hugging Mikey's body, something indiscernible in that pair of eyes that burns Haruchiyo's soul.
“Mikey isn't dead, he's still breathing. He was on top of that container, but he fell when the train...” Hanagaki stops, seemingly trying to pull himself together. “Mikey fell and hit his head. I'm gonna take him to the hospital, you can help or get out of my way, I don't fucking care anymore, but I'm taking him to the hospital. Are we clear?”
Haruchiyo just nods, allowing the hero to pass next to him with Mikey's body hanging on his arms. A chill runs down his spine when he feels it. When he feels that again. In that exact moment, he knows. Mikey is never going to wake up, he will whiter for years before finally dying.
'Laugh, Haruchiyo'
A maniacal laughter escapes his mouth. The universe is mocking at him, the cycle repeating itself.
It was always going to end like this, wasn't it?
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