#constantly going back and forth between like

[lighting-and-shadow]

Ikigai, Part 10

Summary: You’re desperately in love with a man who already belongs to another.

Ikigai (n.) (Japanese): "A reason for being," the thing that gets you up in the morning.

Part 9

Your power’s been strange since that day you heard the melody. You haven't had the joyous occasion of it coming back into your life and your ears, but your heart still yearns for it, calls for it. You try not to dwell on it. That want, that need, takes backstage for the oddities that have been popping up since it first whispered in your ear.

Like now. You know Miss Hunter’s in danger even before the alarm attached to the earrings you gave her go off. You feel the dread in your heart, feel it fill your empty and lonely soul. The sheer volume of that feeling jolts you awake.

Sylus slumbers beside you. He insisted, worry lacing his voice and his hand gently brushing your cheek when he asked you to stay. The look in his eyes is what pushed you to do so. They were inquiring about your relationship, about where you stand after all that's happened.

You should’ve put your foot down. You should’ve kept your distance. Your mind told you so. Your heart didn’t listen, once again.

So you two share a bed again, entangled in each other’s embrace. Sylus’ fast heartbeat syncs to yours. His every breath is the most comforting soundtrack you’ve ever experienced.

Or, it used to be. Nothing could compare to the sound of your beloved being fast asleep until your heard that piece. That song of the stars, that hymn of the universe, is the best thing that’s ever had graced your ears. You hunger to hear it again.

And maybe that selfish wish is why you rush out of bed. You long to hear it again. Because that time, enveloped in that beat, is probably the only time in your life you’ve ever been at true peace. The only time you’ve ever truly belonged.

Miss Hunter is the key to that, and you haven’t seen her in some time, making room for her to bond with Sylus. You’ve pushed both of them into each other’s arms (ironic given that you still let yourself sleep in Sylus’).

That’s what you’ve assumed, anyway. Neither of them have told you anything of the sort. Sylus just spends more time in Linkon and Miss Hunter talks about him in a better light when you two text.

Feels like a husband trying to hide a mistress from his wife with the way they sneak around. And said mistress is her friend.

The mere thought makes you want to vomit. To expel that thought and all others that could follow from both your mind and stomach.

Stop it, you tell yourself as you unceremoniously wiggle your way out of a sleeping Sylus’ embrace. There’s nothing between you two, and everything is right between them.

Your rush, oddly enough, isn’t what wakes your boss. He eyes only shoot open the moment your warmth completely leaves his.

“Where…?” His voice cracks a bit, and he constantly blinks his eyes in the struggle to keep them open.

You wonder, in this moment, what you would do if two really were together. If he really was your husband like so many assume. If he really was yours and not someone else’s.

Would he coax you back into his arms, kissing the back of your neck and mumbling nonsense? Would you two play a game of back and forth, to see who will get up or who will go back to sleep? Or would he simply just wrap his arms around your waist like at the gala a few weeks ago, kissing you everywhere in order to wake himself?

Just the idea flusters you. So flustered that your first attempt on putting on a shirt is one that’s inside out and backwards. You quickly remedy this, glancing back at Sylus as you put the shirt back on right.

He doesn’t even flinch at the brief sight of your bare back. Understandable. You’ve seen him practically naked (except for a towel he haphazardly put on). He’s seen almost every inch of you, bandaging and stitching you back together in more ways than one.

What I wouldn’t give for him to take me apart in the best way possible?

Everything is so very, very hot again.

“Go back to sleep, Morana,” you whisper to him, not going back near the bed in fear you’d do something stupid like kiss him. “Something came up. I’ll handle it, and you call you after I do.”

“Alright,” he yawns. “Come back to me soon.”

You almost cry at his words.

“Be sure to tell the boys. You know how they worry about you.”

You nod, sending a quick text to your group chat with Luke and Kieran (the two menaces named it “When Mom Needs to Shit Talk Dad”) before you head out to your motorcycle.

You don’t check your phone for her location. Something tells you Skyhaven is the place. And another thing tells you that your world is about turn upside down.

As you drive, you soon don’t even need instinct for the former of your ideas. Because Miss Hunter’s thread appears, like the red guiding light in some video game. You know it’s hers because the stories it weaves are hers. The explosion. Her entry into the N109 zone. And some childhood memories she’s told you about.

But this isn’t Sylus’ connection to her that’s leading you. It’s someone else. A boy who’s been by her side for ages. A boy whose death drove her into your life and Sylus’.

You don’t quite see who this boy—man—is. Or maybe you and even Miss Hunter’s very soul are blocking him out. His blurry image conjures confusion, anxiety, betrayal, and layers upon layers pain.

You drive faster.

—

It’s surprisingly easy to find Miss Hunter. Pulling a few (sometimes literal) strings with members of The Fleet, a nice smile here, and a bit of manipulation there, and you find her. She appears to be in a nurse’s uniform, something that gives you pause. What makes you unpause is the aggressive man whose hands are on her.

His appearance flickers, much like Sylus’ did on that fateful day you first met him. Except his doesn’t bounce between dragon and human. No. For this man, you sometimes see a black bandage cover his eyes, and gold running down his body. Said body also becomes engulfed in black machine parts, and you hear them turn even when you’re some distance away.

He looks so much like Alex did that day years ago. Gold instead of silver runs across his metallic body and he lacks the powerful weapon they clutched in their hand. But the same emptiness is there. That same blank slate that hums with a power you want nothing to do with is there.

The difference between this man and Alex though is that he is still alone. He’s still someone’s pawn, and is willing to stay that way for the sake of the woman he loves.

Alex would never be in this position. Their family situation may be complicated, but Kai will never stand for it to escalate. She never allows her spouse’s family to have their way.

The man with cold violet eyes doesn’t have that. He stands a bastion between Miss Hunter and a horrific fate you don’t even want to think about. He stands between her and an evil that you can see in his thread.

Ever.

You hoped to never hear that name again. To never remember the scientists that poked and prodded at you when no sign of a soulmate came in at the expected age. You wonder if they told him about you. You wonder if you’re going to get dragged back into the strange rooms with the strange devices again.

You wonder if your rescue mission is about to become a failed one.

You call out Miss Hunter’s first name. She turns to you, and the military man finally acknowledges your presence. She runs to you, and you shuttle her behind you.

Calm yourself.

You take deep breaths, watching his thread like a hawk, dissecting each little notch and every little twist to find something to exploit. You don’t want to be near this man that represents everything that makes your skin crawl any longer than you have to.

“Apologizes, ummm?” You trail off, laughing at yourself. “I’m sorry, what’s your name? My friend here didn’t mention you in her report.”

“Report?” Is all that comes out of his mouth. His words are devoid of anything. No inflection. No feelings. Nothing.

Your blood runs cold. Miss Hunter hands begin to grip the back of your shirt. She trembles.

“Yes, yes. Her report. The Hunter Association did send her to investigate some things, correct?” The man makes a notion for you continue. “When she submitted it, it was decided by her boss that I’d come and pick her up.”

“The Fleet wasn’t informed about any such development.”

You figured as much.

“I didn’t think the retrieval of one hunter needed to be told to them. The Fleet is busy enough as it is. Adding more paper work and things to sign for us to get one of our own seems foolish, does it not?”

You hate staring at those dead eyes of his. But it’s the only way to get his attention. The only way for him to believe your words and let the two of you go.

But you can hardly focus on getting your words out. There’s something wrong with this man, something mechanical. Something that’s burrowed so deep within him that it messes with him on a fundamental level.

It’s not enough to change his soul, thankfully. You can still see his worry, even if it’s not on his face. You can still see his love for Miss Hunter, even if he doesn’t show it.

So you keep your eyes on his, and hope to the universe that your abilities and your voice are enough to get away.

“Than may I ask why the Association needs her, given the state she’s in and the fact that you didn’t inform us she was to be sent back to Linkon so early?”

“I’m afraid a stranger isn’t privy to such information.”

“Colonel Caleb Xia,” he sticks his hand out for you to shake it.

You take it, and give him your name.

“Now that we’re not strangers, answer my question.”

His attitude is grinding your gears. His attitude, the fear he's giving Miss Hunter, and just the wrongness about him makes you snap inside.

“Well, Colonel,” you’re more harsh with your tone now. “I don’t see why I should. You did not inform the Association of her injuries. You did not inform us that she would be taken on a private airship, forced against her will for treatment, and then hunted down like an animal when she made the reasonable assumption you wouldn’t let her leave and try to escape. I don’t owe a brute like you jack-shit, let alone answers.”

You stick out an arm to further shield Miss Hunter. This seems to rattle the Colonel a bit. So you push further.

“The way you speak to me gives me the impression that you’re suspicious of me. Which is ironic coming from a man that’s meant to be dead.”

Miss Hunter flinches at your words. You use your other hand to soothe her, and even your powers brush against her very soul to calm her. You hate to shake her so much. But using these words, using his own guilt against him, is probably the best chance you have of leaving here.

“Some things came up. Things that you don’t need to know.”

He steps closer to you.

“Ah. So we both have our secrets, don’t we?” You get in his face. “Only mine doesn’t cause my friends great distress.”

His emotionless mask finally cracks a little. Just a smidge. But his thread tells you of mountains and mountains of guilt. Of how it hurts to see the woman he loves so scared of him.

You don’t give a shit. Sure, you almost pity him a bit. But Miss Hunter’s shaky hands on your back, and the reminder of the love you know she deserves from Sylus kills that pity in seconds.

If anything, his cruelty is just another reason you’ll make sure he never has her. It’s just another reason for you to drive her into Sylus’ arms and break your heart again.

“It’s just a misunderstanding.”

The cliche words make you want to strangle him.

“I’d hate to know what kind of misunderstandings you’ve had in the past, Colonel, to think that any of what you’ve done is acceptable.”

“And what exactly is it that you think I’ve done? You just got here, Miss,” the way he says your name makes you all the angrier.

“I have eyes, Colonel. I know a terrified woman trying to escape from a domineering man when I see one.”

You hope flat-out calling him an abuser will get Caleb to back down. Because you know he’s doing all this with good intentions. He doesn’t want to hurt Miss Hunter. He doesn’t want to scare her.

Too bad the pathway to hell is paved with good intentions. Too bad he’s one of those people who refuse to see and acknowledge when they’re wrong.

“How did you find us?” He ignores your comments altogether.

Fine. I’ll play your game.

“By asking around. People are surprisingly agreeable to what you want when you’re not demanding or controlling. Right, Colonel?”

His face scrunches at your implications.

“I wouldn’t know. My job is to command or listen to orders. I do not ask for permission.”

“You know, every word out of your mouth makes me wish you stayed dead.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips. You don’t really mean them. Not truly. Any family or goodness for Miss Hunter is something you’ll celebrate.

Even if Caleb is something that somehow falls into those categories. Even if the man you'll never allow her to truly be with is one of those people.

He’s caused so much pain. So much anguish in her threads and turmoil in her mind. The normally confident and headstrong hunter is silent behind you. Her soul begs for her to run.

You want to turn around and hug her. Give her a shoulder to cry on. To ease her mind while you plot with Sylus how to fuck up the lives of anyone who’s ever hurt her. You want to save her, protect her.

And the more these emotions boil, the more you wonder. Is this the influence of that song? Or is this just what it means to be so beloved by the universe? That even someone like you is drawn into her orbit, ready to give up the man you love for her in a heartbeat?

Once again, your selfish heart wonders if she and all the love the world wants to give her, is the reason you have no love at all.

“Harsh words from someone who just met me,” the Colonel’s quip drags you out from the depths of your self-hatred.

“You’ve just made that bad of a first impression on me.”

“What did I do to do that?”

“You do not want me to answer that.”

The Colonel and you say nothing to each for some time, just staring the other down.

“We really must get going. We have things to attend to, as I’m sure you do as well.”

You turn to try and leave, guiding Miss Hunter to walk in front of you, but Caleb grabs your wrist.

“Unhand me this second, or so help me, Colonel I will make you wish you stayed dead and buried.”

He lets go. You and Miss Hunter return to your old stance of her behind you while you face her childhood friend.

“She’s injured.”

“I’m aware.”

“She can’t work like this.”

“I’m also aware of that. I’ll treat her once we’re back in Linkon and she’s in a comfortable space.”

“She needs rest.”

“And she’ll get it. Away from you. Believe or not, there are others that care for her as well and can do so without violating her autonomy.”

“Why do you need her specifically?”

His change of topic doesn't go unnoticed by any of you. Once again, you play along.

“As I said before, it’s none of your business, so I won’t go into the details. All I will tell you is that her resonance Evol is needed for some investigative work.”

You pause, staring deeper into those cold eyes and his frantic thread.

“And, she has a capable partner that will look after her during this process. She won’t even have to lift a finger.”

“You?”

You almost snort. While you may have cynically thought of joining the Hunter's Association out of spite, you'd never truly consider it. Too... perfect for someone as broken as you. Too bright, too kind, too messy, too secretive, too—

It's just too much. Too much for you and your bloodstained hands and soon-to-be broken heart.

“Oh heavens, no. Not me. I’m not the fighting type,” you can hear Sylus and the twins cackle in your mind as you say this.

You may not like fighting, but everyone in Onychinus knows you can be deadly in one if need be. And some of your opposition actually fears you more than Sylus because of that. Because Sylus’ power is tangible, you can see his energy Evol as it snuffs a life out.

But no one can see it when you pull a thread out of someone’s heart. Or twist their very soul into oblivion. Or choke the life out of them with their own connection to their soulmate.

Your mystery is your greatest weapon. And it’s another reason you tell yourself not to divulge your secret ever again.

“Than how can I trust this mysterious partner if they don’t have the decency to show up themselves?”

Shit.

You gather yourself quickly. You need to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Your trust in my words are irrelevant. I don’t need your permission to take her anywhere, I’m just giving her childhood friend who’s worried about her well-being the curtesy of being told such information. I’m not leaving you in the dark.”

Caleb’s mask once again wavers, so you push more.

“I’m not leaving you frightened of the unknown and nor am I strong-arming you into doing what I want with my authority. I’m having a conversation with you in hopes you’ll see things from my point of view. And I’m not ignoring your clear discomfort nor your fears.”

“And what is it you think I’m afraid of?”

“That you’ll lose her again. Or they’ll get their hands on her.”

You know that’s the right thing to say when the Colonel’s hand begins to hover over his waist, where you assume his gun is. His eyes go dead again. Cold. Bottomless. All consuming.

Just where you want him.

“You think you two are the only ones they’re hunting? You think she’s the only one they’ve ever obsessed over?”

You hate yourself for this. For putting this information into his hands, their hands, again. Because you became a ghost once you entered the N109 zone. You disappeared from their grasp because the old man in charge of the Zion Hunt knows better than to blab about you.

It was your wish from him when you won his little competetion during your first year with Sylus. It was the wish and deal you made with him, his very soul the price should he ever break it. Whether it was you or Sylus that would come to collect, you hope to never know.

Because you were dead to Ever. And it was supposed to stay that way. But for her, and for Sylus, you’ll come back. You’ll put yourself back under their radar in hopes they’ll chase you and not her.

And while you’re at it, maybe you can save the Colonel as well. You may hate who he is right now, but you're curious about the boy he used to be. The boy Miss Hunter loves like family. The boy he was before Ever broke him like they broke you.

“You aren’t,” you continue. “In fact, I think the Professor loved me most of all before I left him.”

“Why?”

He’s still tense. Still ready to end your life and forcibly take Miss Hunter away. But you know where to strike. You know because his thread tells you he’s heard about you. About the strange little girl with no soulmate but with the power to see others, to touch others, to manipulate others.

Seems the Professor still remembers me.

You still remember him. You still remember how him and Josaphine and all the others treated you. You still remember the many tests, the files you read, and all the injections they gave you before your family sent you off to school that same day like nothing happened.

You still remember the adrenaline and joy that coursed through your veins the day you finally ran from it all. That same adrenaline pumps now at the thought of going back.

But you’d do it for her. For them. And hopefully, they’ll all forgive you for it.

“Because I turn everything we’ve ever known about humanity and love upside down.”

Bullseye.

Caleb lowers his hand to his side, no longer ready to shoot you. Because now he realizes you’re just like him, just like Miss Hunter. Another one of the Professor’s runaway “children”. Another one of his pawns that never wants to see him again.

“And do you know what my parents told me each time they took me to him?”

“What?” He asks the question breathily, shaken to his core despite how the chip in his head tries to stop him from feeling.

You pull at his literal heartstrings, at his soul, to bypass the machine. The power of universe itself is far more potent and compelling than some man-made computer.

“That it was for my own good,” that hits Caleb harder than any of your other words, and you scoff when you say it. “Selfish words by selfish people who refuse to admit when they’re wrong. When they refuse to see how they hurt the people they claim to love.”

Miss Hunter burrows deeper into your back. You twine your power into her threads to soothe her, since you can’t physically do it right now.

Her friend Caleb, on the other hand, seems to have been shattered. As if the weight of his actions has hit him. He doesn’t show it on his face or in his eyes, but in his thread. In the thread tied to the very woman who he scared so much.

“You love her, don’t you?”

No response.

“So why continue to hurt her as you do? Why continue to be like my parents and do something that she clearly doesn’t want and is only causing harm?”

“Because it’s a misunderstanding.”

“We already went over this, Colonel,” you’re gentle with your tone now, empathy bleeding into every fiber of your being.

I’ll get you out next, you tell yourself. I’ll get you and all the rest away from that man I should’ve killed years ago.

“But how about I put it another way? How do you expect me to believe you, who disappeared from her life once already and is now back and causing her pain, to be a better place for recovery than a place where everyone loves her and respects her ability to take care of herself?”

Once again, the Colonel doesn’t show how much of a gut punch your words are. You are a stranger, after all. And he’s been literally programmed to suppress how he feels.

So you tug at the string only you can. You tug on the connection on you can feel and twist and exploit. And he starts to feel it all. His guilt. His piles and piles of insecurity. And how maybe, just maybe, all you’ve been saying is right.

It’s a bit gross to you, to do this to a man who’s already been through so much. But he isn’t your priority. She is. The young woman who cowers behind you. The young woman who put her faith in you.

The young woman that will make the man you love feel whole again. She’s who you came for. She’s who you’ll help. Caleb will have to wait his turn.

“Think about what you’re asking me to do, Colonel, from my perspective. My friend, who I’ve seen be consumed by grief, finally has gets the green light to work again after losing the only parental figure she remembers and the only family she had as well as her home.”

You pause to look his in the eyes and play with his thread more before continuing.

“She goes on said mission, gets heavily injured, and I come to pick her up only to find her on the run from said family member who’s supposed to be dead, and she’s disguised as a nurse as she tries to free herself from him. Would you trust you in my shoes?”

He has no response again, so you deliver what you hope to be the killing blow, “She’s been through so much. Do you really want to make matters worse?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, Colonel,” you don’t know what compels you to do so, but you lay a hand on his mechanical arm; it takes him by surprise, but since he doesn’t immediately retreat from your touch (and instead leans into it) you count that as a win. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I thought you were here to pick her up for a mission. How does my presence impact that?”

Got you.

While your words may sound like a slip up, you meant it. You meant for him to catch the underlying meanings of your words and press. You meant to reveal this “truth”.

“Alright, you caught me. There’s no mission. She called me directly because she was scared.”

You can feel the panic from Miss Hunter. You squeeze her hand, both to reassure her and as a promise to tell her everything later. Poor girl’s been lied to her entire life. And you understand that confusion and pain from being deceived by so many better than anyone.

The last thing you want is to become another person in that long list for her.

You take a deep, dramatic, breath. “You see, you never quite know how safe you are in this job. Whether it be Wanderers or rival organizations, danger’s around the corner for us Hunters. The explosion at your house made that all the more obvious.”

You pause, squeezing Miss Hunter’s hand again, making sure Caleb saw the turmoil and pain in your eyes. “So I came up with this system for me and her. A way to call each other discreetly and to be sure we’ll get back up from a trusted friend. Regardless of where we were of whether we had our Hunter’s watches. A way for us to protect one another while still respecting each other’s space.”

You don’t quite know what it is this time that gets Caleb to see the light. But something flashes across his eyes, and he finally backs down. You almost let out a sigh of relief. But your professionalism makes you choke it back down.

Don’t waver. You’re not in the clear yet. Not until she’s home and safe.

“I see…” his voice carries the most emotion you’ve heard from him.

You sneakily curl a finger around his thread, tapping into that heart of his that you know still sleeps in his chest. No machine, no stupid little chip, will keep you from reaching it.

So you rub the thread between your fingers. You rub it and make him see the pain he’s causing, the suffering on the woman he loves’ face. You force him to see that feeling and come face to face with the realization that he caused it.

Something shifts in the Colonel. You words coupled with you literally touching his soul get to him in ways he didn’t think possible.

“I see…” he says again, this time, with pain in it.

You finally relax.

“I’ll escort you out.”

Your stomach drops at the mere idea. “No need. I happen to have quite the memory, and can get us out safely on my own.”

“I insist.”

Please don’t.

“Haven’t you done enough damage with your “insisting” already?”

A low blow. But nothing is too low for you to get him to back off. To get away from this man that makes your friend tremble and you uncomfortable.

You don’t know if it’s the machine in his head, the emotionless landscape of his past life, or the way that history of his reminds you of your missing friend Alex. Any one of those could be what ultimately makes you not want to be in his presence.

The Colonel opens his mouth, probably to push his point again, but another voice interrupts him before he can.

“Colonel Xia. What the fuck are you doing?”

The voice comes from behind you and Miss Hunter. It’s female, and a bit scratchy. From disuse or just a natural undertone to it, you don’t know. But something about it compels you to keep your gaze forward. For whatever reason, you can’t bring yourself to turn around.

Miss Hunter can’t either, judging by how she buries her face into your back.

The steps of your savior are anything but comforting. A pit forms in your stomach. A pit that’s familiar.

Death approaches.

Every part of you wants to fight. To fight against what your lizard brain sees as a foe but what your logical one sees as an ally. It’s a confusing storm of emotions. One that gets worse once you see the woman.

She flickers. Just like Alex and Caleb. Just like Kai. Exactly like Sylus, given how her changes are that of horns and a tail.

She’s a fiend.

It’s the first time you’ve seen similar past lives. You’ve seen Lemurians. You’ve seen cyborgs. You’ve seen beings made of flowers and sand. But never two of the same.

Another fiend isn’t something you thought you’d ever see. Another fiend shouldn’t be possible, given that you know Sylus was the only of his kind (a dragon that's too human, and a human that's too much of a monster). Another fiend like him shakes everything you thought you knew.

Who is she?

Caleb, as if hearing your thoughts, answers for you, “Undertaker Rafia. What are you doing here, ma’am?”

The amount of respect he gives this woman shocks you somewhat. The same man who tried to force his own soulmate into compliance, who frightens even you, is on edge by the appearance of one woman.

A woman of tall stature. A bulky, muscular woman. A woman with pitch black hair and the palest skin you’ve ever seen. A woman who was once a fiend.

That same woman stands between you and Caleb, her back still turned to you.

“Why I’m here is irrelevant. You have a ceremony to get to, and if you don’t get your ass in gear, it’ll be your funeral I’m planning next.”

“Ma’am, I—“

“Get to it, Caleb. Before you piss me off more.”

Caleb seems to weigh his options for a second. Before he salutes her and walks off. The tension in your body finally releases. You can breathe now. You can exist now without the weight of the Colonel’s eyes and voice on your shoulder.

“I’ll escort the two of you out. You shouldn’t have any more problems.”

Despite the primal fear her appearance first gave you, you’re grateful. She turns to you, and you open your mouth to tell her thank you, but something makes all words catch in your throat. And you stare.

You stare at Undertaker Rafia, even as Miss Hunter’s hold on you becomes a death grip on you. Not because you’re grateful. Not because you’re in shock.

No. You stare for a reason you never thought possible. You stare because the sight before you shouldn’t be real.

She has no soulmate.

Undertaker Rafia has no soulmate thread. Just. Like. You.

—

You’re 7 and in love with your best friend, the son of mother’s own best friend.

You sit on the couch in the game room of his house, picking at the fraying knitted blanket. Your crush sits next to you, eyes more focused on the pause screen of his video game than you. You don’t mind though. His dedication to his games is one of the reasons you like him.

He’s so excited about them, rambling to you about them with wild gestures while you just sit and listen. He could fill up an entire conversation for you two. You don’t need to say a word. You don’t need to force yourself into the awkwardness of trying to find the right words.

You could just be there with him.

”Sam says you like me.”

You nod.

”So… you do?”

You nod again, still unable to utter a word. Maybe because speaking will make this all too real? Maybe because speaking will make him laugh at you?

You chase that stupid thought away. He’d never laugh at you. He’s always kind with you, offering you his blanket when he’s clearly cold, opening doors for you, listening to your opinions on the rare occasion you can your mouth to form actual sentences.

Your friend treats you so preciously. And it makes you hope and pray you’ll be lucky enough to discover that he’s your soulmate.

”But I’m not your soulmate.”

Your friend tilts his head at you. Your heart falls with the motion. And you force your mouth to move and for words to come out.

You can’t lose him.

”You don’t know that,” you barely manage to mumble.

He takes your hand, toothy grin on his face. A grin that you love and makes you flush and makes you smile the biggest smile in your little life.

”I guess we’ll find out.”

You could cheer.

That all goes away in a few days. Your love? Tossed aside. Your happiness? Dashed. The friendship and the new relationship with a boy you thought like-liked you? Gone.

One day, you’re happy and the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. The next, he’s dumping you.

”I like someone else now,” he says kindly, as if that’ll make the blow hurt any less.

Your mind races. What did you do wrong? What have you done to make him like this, to make him no longer like-like you? Tears gather in your eyes as your chest aches.

You clutch at it. The pain is unbearable. You think your heart is literally breaking, shattering. Thump, thump, thump, it goes steadily. But, the pain, oh the pain, makes you believe otherwise. How else could you explain the piercing stabs in your chest?

You can’t look at your friend. Can’t look at him with his apologetic eyes and sweet voice that tries to calm you down. Can’t look at him with his soft hands that rub your back and familiar clothes that you think look cute on him.

All there is for you is pain. Pain in your chest as you sob and sob and sob. The one person, your person, is leaving you. Abandoning you. When you thought he’d be the only person to ever stay with you.

He’s the only one who sees you in your silence. Where your family teases you and tells you to take a joke, he gives you comforting reassurance of your feelings. Where others tell you to speak up, he gives you space to find your voice. Where the world tell you your heart is too tender and too soft, he tells you it’s a gift to care so much.

He is your rock in the storm. Your everything. The one pillar in your life that makes the house of you stand strong. And now, he’s knocking it down without a care.

And with that, your sorrow turns to rage. At his betrayal. At his abandonment. At anything and everything about him and the embarrassment he’s causing you on this stupid couch you confessed on.

When you look at him, at his chest he’s trying to suffocate you in because the stupid boy thinks that’ll comfort you and mend your heart, you see it. You see this odd red string that shimmers. You push him away. You blink. All sounds are quiet.

The string is still there. Still shimmering, still floating, still making waves from his heart. You're as enchanted by it as you are lost by it. Why is it here? How is it here? What is it?

You just stare. Your friend’s hands still rub your back in vain. Your chest is still on fire. Your eyes still produce tears despite how much it hurts to, despite how much they make you choke and spit and cough.

You cling to the string instead of him. You cling to this mystery. Because every mystery has a solution according to your teachers. Every puzzle has an answer, one that makes sense.

What sense is there to be found in your friend? What sense is there to be found in your own heart?

As if knowing what’s going through your mind, the string calls out to you louder. It compels you stronger. To listen. To touch it. To experience it. So, in your confused and broken heart, you do.

And you see her. An unassuming girl. A girl who didn’t know your friend like you did. A girl who would never give a nerd like him the time of day because all that matters is popularity and talking and peopling and all these other things that just isn’t your friend.

”Is it her? Is she your soulmate?”

The other question slips out before you can stop it. Her name follows shortly after. 

You don’t even need to look at your friend to know the answer. The string tells you. It’s taken his place as your place of comfort. You grasp it in your hands.

Will this leave me too? you wonder.

”What are you doing?” Your friend asks; you barely hear him because no words out of his mouth matter more than this moment.

But his stupid words do tell you something. They tell you he can’t see them.

Am I the only one who can?

Maybe the string is secret you’ve been entrusted with? Maybe it’s your apology from the universe for your broken heart? Maybe it can be your new friend?

Excitement and glee unlike any you've ever felt flood your chest. The strings are yours. They're something no joke, no call to speak up, and no adult can take from you.

It doesn’t vanish when you touch it. It doesn’t leave once you have it in your grasp like your friend is doing now. It sits with you. It speaks with you. And you speak what it tells you.

”You two share dreams, right?” You don’t give your friend time to answer. “Started yesterday, you fell asleep beneath our special tree. She wasn’t at school that day. Fever.”

Your friend has nothing to say, so you continue, “You should give her the blue Jolly Ranchers the next time you two share. She knows they’re your favorite, so she lies and says she doesn’t like them. She also hates the watermelon, you know. But your smile is worth choking them down.”

The more you learn, the more the tears fall from your eyes. Guilt begins to replace your hurt. Your chest still sings with a blaze you can’t put out.

”She actually loves chess and checkers. Guess you have someone new to play with.”

One sob you can’t hold back interrupts you. Image after image that illustrates how perfect she is for him and how perfect you aren't enter your mind. Each one stabs a new hole in your heart.

”She’s perfect for you. So, so perfect.”

You break. You scream. You throw pillows around and toss the blanket that the two of were sharing at a window.

”Why? Why, why, why, why, why?!”

Footsteps rush up the stairs. Their family dog is barking. Your throat hurts. Your voice is scratchy. When was the last time you raised it? Ever?

As your family comes to your side, asking what’s wrong, and your friend looks at you with horrified eyes, you finally whisper, “Why couldn’t it been me?”

The ride home is a blur. Your family’s attempts at comfort are a blur. Everything but your final words to your friend is a blur.

Why? Why couldn’t it been me?

That’s the only thought is your head until you finally fall asleep. As well as when you get to school and spot your friend and his soulmate feeding each other those stupid blue Jolly Ranchers to each other, laughing.

He doesn’t spare you glance. He doesn’t reach out. He doesn’t talk to you. And you, with your new friend in the strings, let him.

Your teacher, however, doesn’t. She pulls you aside after class.

”Did you and,” she says your friend’s name, “get into a fight?”

You nod your head, not looking her in the eyes. Eyes are scary to you. They should say too much according to the books you’ve read. But to you, they say too little.

Now, you have your strings. You have these things no one else can see, but everyone seems to possess. Even your teacher.

Worry makes waves in her sting. Worry and exhaustion. So you cut straight to the point, even as your body begs you to just shut down and wait it out like usual.

”Yes. He broke my heart because he found his soulmate.”

Surprise colors your teacher’s string. After all, you’re a quiet child. One who keeps her eyes glued to the floor and voice barely above a whisper. One who—in some case, quite literally—runs from conflict and the rest of the world.

You don't talk to adults. They never listen anyway, so you stopped a long time ago. So you understand why hearing your voice so clearly and so directly is strange to your teacher.

You await her response, hoping and praying for something good. While you may still hurt from your friend’s abandonment, you got the strings out of it. Maybe an adult will listen and help you for once because of them?

”Oh honey,” anticipation builds within you. “You should be happy for him! He found his one true love… you two were never going to last long anyways.”

The world collapses again. Tears build in your eyes again. But you don’t let yourself cry. You don’t let yourself beg or scream or wail because that didn’t help you the first time. Why would it be different now?

Why did I even hope?

So you turn to her string. You turn to her love because yours is so meaningless and empty and a waste and nothing—

”You get glimpses of your soulmate when you paint, right?”

You just start talking before you can think. Again.

”The color purple comes in pretty often. That, and dolphins. It’s because it’s Mrs. Smith, the math teacher. Did you know she does opera on the weekends because singing gives her glimpses of you?”

Your teacher’s jaw is on the ground. You shuffle away as she tries to recover from what you just said. You wait for your family to pick you up, more hopeless than ever.

The next day, news spreads that your teacher and Mrs. Smith are together. It gets around that a pair of soulmates found each other miraculously after years of unknowingly working together for years. Your teacher tells her, your, story. And the world finally begins to listen to you.

You begin to speak. With so many eyes turning to you, wondering about where you got your information, you tell. You tell them about the threads and what they whisper to you. What they say about others, about their soulmates, about their pasts, and about their loves.

One of your classmates gives you a look. A look you know all too well. A look that resonants in their own thread, which tells you they don’t believe you.

You aren’t even surprised anymore.

But another classmate approaches you after class. Asks about their thread and their other half. And you tell them. To go to a cafe with their parents on a specific day at a specific time. There, they will bump into their other half and be able to share their thoughts with them.

They do so. And another success falls into your lap.

After that, more and more people approach you. Some kids. Some adults. Some old people. Some from school. Some from apparently the other side of the world. All hearing stories and rumors from those you’ve helped.

You tell every time. Despite their clear caution. Despite the glances you now get in the hallway. Despite how the loneliness piles and piles on top of the grave of your old love.

But the final nail in your coffin comes from your friend again. Or rather, from his family. Yours and his are trying to make you two talk again. To make everyone friends again and “keep the peace” as the adults are saying.

You don’t budge. His useless apologies and meaningless sorries bounce right off your ears. Because all you can see is his thread and his memories with her. All you can see is your broken love and his blossoming new one.

So you turn to another thread. Not your family’s because you know them far too well. But his mother’s, the only one who seems to understand you. And you’re floored again.

”Your husband is not your soulmate.”

For the third time, your mind can’t stop your mouth.

”Your bonds are both similar, so you just assumed as much. When you sleep at night, you get your other half’s memories, right? Well, you each got the wrong sibling.”

Chaos ensues. You’re being screamed at by all: your friend, his family, your family, and even yourself. You just retreat into your mind, and into the threads. It’s the one place that can never hurt you.

You family doesn’t hear from your friend and his family for some time. Your own family has been distant from you. You no longer care. All you need are the threads. They’re the only truly loyal thing in your life.

When you do hear from your friend and his family again, you’re greeted by warmth. By joy. By tears of absolute happiness.

”Thank you,” they all say. “Thank you for making us all whole.”

You wonder why. According to everyone, you broke up a family. And according to what you know, that should be bad. So why are you being praised? Why are you being thanked?

Your friend begins to hang out with you again. He becomes your voice again. He gives you snacks and blankets and pillows again. He looks at you with happiness again.

Than it all falls into place when you see him with her. When you see your teachers together. When you see the two new couples that form your friend's family.

Who cares who or what a soulmate’s love hurts? Everything is nothing compared to it.

You think this as you watch your friend play video games with his other half, smiling while you watch with your own wavering grin, heart stitched together by your own resilience and refusal to hurt again.

Author's Note: Also, please go to the original blurb to ask to be added to the taglist (it's impossible for me to keep checking every part every time I update).

2nd Author's Note: This has honestly been the most emotional and personal Ikigai chapter for me to write, since I based part of Reader's past emotional trauma on my own (it's the easiest for me to write and works as therapy, so win-win). I mentioned early on there would be flashbacks, and I wanted to showcase some of her young life and where her mindset came from. I have one more planned—which is coming next chapter—but let me know if you'd like more!

3rd Author's Note: If I wrote and published an acutal novel, would anyone here read it? Because I had a fiction workshop class and I'm so invested with the story I cooked up there!

4th Author's Note: What's your ideal date? I need ideas for a future scene in this series, and would love some more input.

Taglist: @eolivy, @rafayelridesfisheatsfish, @animegamerfox, @jasperjokester, @schrodingerskimdokja, @just--crys, @snowdynasty, @shi-thats-kiera, @mansonofmadness, @dwuclvr, @ameilli, @katiedoesstuff101, @everythingistaken00, @napa-the-yappa, @hanaluxx, @lovesick-sylus, @tenaciouszombiewombat, @ladyparamount, @applepi405, @midnight-reverie, @69-gojos-wife-69, @bellagrayson-wayne, @phisen, @idkmanimjusthorny, @munchychuusy, @autumn2534, @poptrim, @sillyfreakfanparty, @zaynesfirefly, @flamedancer13, @thissmartdumbass, @mrsllawliet, @jeondyy, @ssetsuka, @dels-page, @that-lost-one, @johnnysactualgf, @mariquitas-en-verano, @toelady, @sinnamon-bunn, @yesbiaswrecked, @doggyteam2028, @little-rays-of-darkness, @albatrossblue, @vyntheria, @silverianni, @browneyedgirl22, @tiklestar, @beaconsxd, @pepperushia

[vasito-de-leche]

B-Baby Saja dating hcs, please and thank you. I have no money, but I have my love and support!! 🥹👉👈

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS BABY - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Baby (Baby Saja) in a romantic relationship.

no problem anon, all we ask is for your heart and soul, nothing too big!

Okay, hear me out. I know it's common to portray maknaes as sweethearts, the cute ones that make you squeal with their adorable antics, but I really like the idea that the roles given to each of the Saja Boys are somewhat ironic--Jinu being the leader, the figure of someone you can rely on and that keeps things stable being actually a liar and selfish person only looking out for himself, Romance being all about love but being unable to truly accept nor commit to a relationship, etc etc. So when it comes to Baby, I like the idea that his cute antics are mostly an act.

He and Mystery are the most difficult members to approach in a romantic context, simply because they have no interest in anyone outside of the band.

The difference between them is that Mystery believes any connection he makes cannot be genuine for many, many reasons, while Baby just doesn't think anyone is interesting enough to let them stick around. He likes the superficial attention and compliments that he can get just by rapping and making cute faces, those are easily accessible! He dislikes the idea of anyone expecting something out of him, the pressure of living up to someone else's idea of him--the vibe I want to portray with Baby is that of someone who is too childish to realize that relationships are a two-way thing, who struggles to understand that some people are worth the effort.

I mentioned in my previous Saja Boys posts that the only way for most of them to be in a relationship right away is through a publicity stunt--being in a fake relationship with Baby takes a lot of patience, due to him going hot and cold, back and forth constantly. Sometimes he has fun pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes he gets fed up with keeping up with the cutesy nicknames and ignores you for days on end. Sometimes he's blowing up your DMs, asking if he's done anything wrong, why are you ignoring him? Don't you want to hang out anymore? By the way, you still owe him money for that lunch date the other day.

Ideally, for Baby to start considering a relationship, he would first need to consider the idea of opening up to someone as a friend; I think that anyone looking to be close with Baby needs to be someone full of surprises, who can keep up with his moodiness and all of his whims.

There are a million fans who would love to spoil him rotten after all, he can get those any day. But someone who can keep him on his toes? Bite back with comebacks that leave him speechless? That's rare. That's new and fun. I do think that Baby gravitates towards people who are most similar to him, hence why he had no problem following Jinu--game recognizes game, both are people who live for themselves.

And once you have Baby's attention, it becomes easy to earn his approval. He likes you, so obviously you should get the same privileges as him!

He teaches you how to pull the perfect pouty face to get away with anything, how to cry on command and where the hottest hidden spots in town are, always making sure you get the best VIP treatment. Even if you're not into the life of luxury that idols live, he still insists that you keep him company, it's fine if you don't want to buy designer clothes or fun novelty trinkets for yourself, but you have to be there when he shows off his new outfits or this new drone he's bought.

And trust me, he WILL show off in front of all of your friends and family, Baby is the type of person who would LOVE to show up unprompted to a family dinner just so everyone at the table can gawk at the two of you because holy shit you're dating THE Baby Saja?

Movig on to their demon aspects, dating Abby involves slowly coming to see more of his animalistic and demonic impulses, all of the sides he cannot keep hidden because of how excited he is to be in a relationship--but with Baby, it's more like you're finally privy to all the things that happen behind the scenes, like you're in on the joke. His attitude doesn't change a lot, but it's like you're able to see him in a brand new light either way, understanding all the little details because he finally allowed you into his world.

I like to think that Baby's struggle as a demon, or the reason he became one in the first place, is related to how guarded and childish he seems to be--someone who was raised to be great, couldn't live up to those expectations and yet demanded the rewards either way because this is what he was raised for, this was what was promised to him. Why deny him everything now? Why force him on a path with no escape, only to toss him aside like that?

This is why it's harder for Baby to let anyone in, why he struggles with expectations and responsibility of any kind and why he becomes so fiercely overprotective and territorial of anyone that manages to slip into his heart.

When Baby falls in love, he unconsciously becomes extremely clingy with you; sometimes it's his casual cute maknae antics, sometimes it's giving the nastiest looks to anyone who distracts you from paying attention to him, sometimes it's whining into your arms about how you're leaving him alone too often, he wants your opinion on his next rap! Do you wanna hear it? It's a diss track on this guy you both hate! He genuinely doesn't notice he does this, more focused on finding ways and excuses to be with you.

Following his instincts as a demon but lacking the actual drive to get himself physically involved, Baby would have no issue pulling a few strings to somehow push anyone he deems annoying or a threat to your friendship and relationship with him out of the picture--in fact, I can see him fully believing he's doing you a favor by weeding out those who might be a bad influence on you. These people? They want to change you, to force you to do things you don't want! What the fuck is a 9 to 5 job, that sounds awful!

Whereas Abby becomes drunk in the positive feelings you inflict on him, focusing on how to make you happy because you make him happy, Baby focuses more on how to ensure you don't leave him, nor experience any of the things he's lived through. Depending on how close Jinu is with all the members, I can see Baby somewhat adapting the mentality that all demons deserve is to swallow in their own misery for all eternity, but it doesn't extend to you.

Moving on to less intense topics, it's pretty easy for fans to spot when he gets serious about you; he simply stops posting about you as often on his social media. All the cute pictures he takes of you or the two of you together are for his eyes only.

Once you two settle into the relationship, you can pretty much figure out what he wants or is going to say with just a single text. He sends "Hiiii ❤️✨" and you already know he's going to say that if he was a worm, you'd obviously love him but that he'd want you to also be a worm with him.

Another fun headcanon I have about Baby is that he's pretty much a brat and all, but he's not immune to you and basically folds super easily without even realizing--not when it comes to things he likes and dislikes, mind you, there's no one on this planet who can make him do anything he hates, but if you happen to mention your favorite color, then Baby will find himself wearing more of it without noticing. If you mention you like sweets, he just happens to bring up your favorite snack during interviews, as if that had been his favorite brand all along.

[devil-hunter66]

Dante had got the hint that she wouldn’t exactly be overly trusting of his twin brother, especially considering his past deeds. But that was between himself and Vergil, the way HE saw it, she had NO reason for butting into their affair. Even if she did, what chance did she stand against a man who could turn sword slashes into dimension destroying vortexes of destruction??...Before Dante could speak up, Vergil noticed her hand in her pocket...the same place she was keeping Asteroth...He narrowed his eyes, pressing his thumb bellow the Tsuba of his sword.

"THAT...is between me and my brother...Whatever you believe to accuse me of is no BUSINESS of yours..." "Okay guys, lets just chill for a moment yeah?...besides, I already told you that my bro had mellowed out since then. I could tell you the story later when we are out of--" As soon as the twins saw the flames go out, followed by a greater force of darkness and the voice that followed after...Vergil spun around, standing tall as his eyes dart around...listening to the voice! Dante simply rolled his eyes before he casually strode around, resting both his hands against his pockets as he looked at the monsters that manifested...Dante of course saw the half man, half lion half snake monster and just...chuckled! walking ever-so-closer to the beast before casually knocking the back of his knuckle onto his chest as if in a taunting manor.

"Soooo! This big bad Goddess of yours dosen't wanna get her own hands dirty so she sent YOU guys instead? Yesh! She must have her own priorities if she decided to throw the entire chess-board onto the table." Dante looked around, noticing that...there weren't any Demons around this time??...strange, this tower is usually brimming with Infernal life forms...where were the Bloodgoiels? the Hell soldiers? not to mention the Spider Demons that usually roam the web rooms??...

"Speaking of which! any of your other pals gonna join us some time soon? Not sure if your new to this whole game of "back-N-forth" but YOUR not exactly our usual company. Not a single Demon in sight! That's a first, I can't think of a single Devil that dosen't wanna peace of THIS pepperoni~!" Dante reached behind his back where the Devil Sword Dante was...all before he DREW the sword out! holding it in his hand as the blade gave off a hellish magma-like glow from inside the sealed up sword blade. Being a Son of Sparda and a professional Demon Hunter who had been fighting Demonic threats his whole life, fighting monsters like these should be second nature to him. Vergil looked around, a word not escaping his lips...His thumb still pressing the underside of Yamato's guard...Vergil had always been constantly prepared for a fight, weather they were safe or not...it was how he always gained an advantage on his foes to begin with...These monsters...there wasn’t a single Demonic entity amongst them...most unusual...

@devil-hunter66

River's wings felt heavy as the half-blood soar over Tartarus. She followed the river Acheron until she reached it. The crack in the ground where the water had been draining.

The half-blood just wanted a normal summer vacation at camp half-blood. Of course, that wasn't going to happen. The underworld at some point had been thrown into chaos, creatures from Tartarus finding a way to flee and raise hell upon the rest of hades. Now it was up to her to figure out the issue.

"Alright. Father said this should be the way to hell." The half-blood check to make sure she had everything one last time. Rations? Check. Nectar? Check. Tools to maintain her prosthetic if it gets damage? Check. Weapon? Check. River took a deep breath and dived bomb down into the crack to hell. The quest prophecy ringing in her head.

She wasn't sure how far she was falling, or for how long. But eventually the air change. She opened her eyes to find herself in the demon world. Hell. "Okay..." She landed on the ground. "Now, how the hell do I find who I need to?" River said to herself.

With no better answer, she began walking deeper into hell. Keeping her scythe in it's cube form. But a hand around it just in case. She wasn't sure how long she had been walking, but it was at least felt like a few hours, until she finally found something else down here.

[legendweaver]

"I brought a Cheesesicle for you!…"

"..."

Mikey must be looking at them and thinking he should have brought pizza.

No problem.

It's tragic that the family is torn apart like pizza.

@tmntaucompetition 2025

← Shatter →

Mikey POV

The car shook slightly as it rose along the Ferris wheel. Michelangelo was vibing so well right now, totally not gripping the window lip tight enough that he would be worried if this whole thing wasn't magical mumbo jumbo. And it wasn't the ferris wheel, okay. In the grand scheme of Michelangelo's Menagerie of Malaphors, a ferris wheel didn't even register on the scale. And it wasn't his first time anyway. His dimension might not have "Hidden Cities", or "Mutant Towns", or "a Queen of England", but there were some advantages to living in a world that was a lot quieter and emptier because of a behind the scenes alien invasion that's been going for thousands of years.

Once, many years ago he and his brothers had broken into an empty, dark carnival in the middle of the night. Donnie has figured out how to get the rides running and they had made a night of it. Leo had been super tense about the noise and lights getting them caught, but ---- pointing out the limited time Space Heroes themed coaster had been enough to win him over. In the back of the mind he could remember him and his other brother teaming up to swing their car back and forth violently, while Donnie shrieked, and Leo's composure broke down into a giggly fit until they all collapsed into a heaving laughing pile at the bottom of the car.

The memory stained the current moment like a murder scene

His thumb rubbed the wood of the stick idly, eyes blurred and unfocused. Like maybe if he zoned out hard enough, he would dissolve into the static lurking in the back of his skull. He did his best to ignore the sneaky concerned and curious glances of the smaller, armored, different dimensional version of himself sitting next to him, and the dark presence staining the corner of the car, which was a whole nother can of worms, and a potential breakdown just waiting to happen.

Michelangelo did feel a bit bad. A, for bringing his current headspace in and really killing the mood. B, the maybe sorta kinda panic attack he had at the sight of the kids brooding buddy in the corner. And C, abandoning his brothers the first chance he got.

When Donnie had run off, Leo caught between going after him, and facing their younger alternate selves, (There was no way ---- had ever been that small...right?) he had taken his chance to slip into the growing crowd to get away. If he was lucky it would be a while before he noticed he was gone, and the funky nature of this place would make it harder for Leo to hunt him down with his spiritual wumbo.

(He used to have dreams, fantasies he would wrap himself in, that one day Leo would come home and his bros would all be together again. And one day, Mikey would wake up, and the constantly weeping wound in his chest would suddenly be gone, and everything would be finally be fine again.)

The family reunion had been a real bummer so far.

He idly chewed on the slowly softening chunk of cheese. It was nice, nostalgic, unfortunately reminiscent of that one time he ate a whole frozen stick of butter from his current couch crasher's freezer. Overall, an 8 out of ten.

He hadn't been lying when he had said he was hungry earlier. His stomach had been rumbling for a bit now. He would love to chow down on some Zacherie's or Wonton Palace right about now.

Or Murakami's, a quiet, traitorour part of him whispered before being shoved down violently. Michelangelo wasn't like his brothers. He had let go. He had moved on.

Cut and Replace.

"Hey, little dude", he said, turning to the kid "I heard someone mention a kitchen around here. How about we pop in for some grub, my treat."

He hoped the kid said yes. He was still a bit rattled to want to go it alone. And it would help make up for the whole 'sorry-about-freezing-up-and-almost-attacking-your-friend-but-hey-at-least-it-was-me-and-not-one-of-my-brothers-because-dude-that-would-have-been-rough' thing.

‐-----------------------

Reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated.

Just two more posts to go!

Thanks for the ask!

[aayakashii]

Hii Aya!♡

Could I have a double espresso with a croissant and a red velvet cake, please? If it’s not too much(´∀｀) I’ll be visiting with Ren!٩(^‿^)۶

Order up! Double Espresso (University AU) and a Croissant (Roommates) [I only take two prompts at a time, sorry!]

The loud slam of the front door was pretty much all the warning you needed in regards to Ren's mood as he arrived in your shared apartment.

And if that wasn't enough to make the situation immediately clear, the way he scurried away like a frightened cat without as much as a hello and immediately shut himself in his room was a dead giveaway.

Ren didn't have a good day.

Not that he seemed to have ever had a single good day in his whole life, what with how grumpy he constantly was �� complaining about his classes, complaining about his seniors, complaining about the fact that he had a roommate and so on and so forth.

But usually, he'd stop by the living room and make some snarky comment about whatever you were watching, or call you a nerd if you were studying – his unorthodox way of finding excuses to chat. You knew that deep inside that bitter little heart, he had some fondness for you, despite knowing he would deny it vehemently.

Regardless, he would spend at least a few minutes talking to you after getting home from classes or his part-time job, enough for you to know that he's okay (or as okay as his moody ass can be) before shutting himself in his room to play his countless mobile games or watch the worst movies imaginable. The fact that he skipped this whole part of his daily routine sent off alarm bells in your mind.

And so, without much thought, you got up with a sigh, kicking the cozy weighted blanket you always kept neatly folded on your side of the couch, and went to the kitchen, absent-mindedly looking for his favorite ramen packets and snacks.

Honestly, you don't really know when you started liking Ren. You just know that you do. Maybe you're a bit masochist, or maybe the consistent domesticity of living with him for months softened your heart, but you were pretty much aware of the feelings that were safely tucked there, in your chest.

But you didn't plan on confessing nor acting on them at all. Ren avoided every type of relationship like a plague (you never even remember if he ever mentioned friends beside you), but most of all: you didn't want to make your living situation weird – the apartment is comfy and rent is cheap; no way you'd lose that just to get a broken heart in return.

However, you still cared for him. Maybe more than what a normal friend (let alone a roommate) would do, and maybe more than what Ren deserved, but still. You liked him, so being gentle was more of an instinct than conscious thought.

Which is how you ended up in front of his door a few minutes later, softly knocking against it in an attempt to tear him away from his cave and maybe pacify the little monster inside his head.

You were positively relentless. Despite your knocking being careful and low enough to almost go unnoticed, it rang inside Ren’s head like a gong. It was annoying, like pretty much everything in his day, so he groaned against his pillow, curling himself into a ball to make himself smaller, trying to will his body into fusing with his bed so maybe that way he would never have to step outside ever again.

“Ren, come on.” You voice came through the door a little muffled. “I know you’re in a bad mood, but you need to at least eat a little. I promise I’ll let you go back to your room as soon as you’re finished.”

He turned his head to the side, glaring at the door as if he could burn you with a laser beam.

“I don't wanna go out, I want a trillion bucks, a mansion in an isolated island with perfect internet, and no one else to bother me ever again.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned your forehead against the small gap between his door and the hallway's wall, in order to make your voice reach him a bit louder.

“Okay, I get it, but you can't plan for your future total isolation in an empty stomach, can you?”

Ren groaned, rubbing his face against his pillow aggressively.

“Leave me alone!!”

“I even got you your favorite ramen packets. I know you were out of them, so I got some last time I went grocery shopping. I promise I won't even nag you to eat healthy. You can eat as much sodium as you want today.”

That made him pause.

It pissed him off a little, how caring you were sometimes. He was pretty sure you were a little off in the head because usually anyone else would have left him alone a long time ago due to his disagreeable behavior.

Ren knew he wasn't the most pleasant person to be around, but after a while, he wholeheartedly accepted his own nastiness as his own way of protecting himself. He truly didn't need a repeat of elementary school, when he still tried to make connections and was thoroughly bullied for being just a little off the mark. If no one wanted to accept him, then they can all go fuck themselves and he'll happily be the one to tell them that.

He wasn't used to someone trying to go through his barriers. He never even knew there were gaps in the walls that surrounded him before you managed to keep squeezing yourself through them day after day after day.

It was annoying. Disconcerting.

You knocked again.

“Did you listen? I got your favorite–”

“Yeah, yeah. I did.” Ren rolled his eyes and slowly pushed himself off of his bed with a sigh. “Just a sec.”

“Really?!” You gasped. “I mean, okay. Take your time! But, like, not that long either, I don't want the water to go cold.” You babbled, making him heave a long sigh yet again, as he quickly changed into his old and ratty loungewear.

The door flew open suddenly and you flinched.

“My god, I'm here, you're so persistent.” He mumbled, running a hand through his tousled hair.

You gulped and licked your lips as the scent of his cologne flooded your senses, being so close to his room and himself. You cursed yourself for thinking he still looked pretty despite being dressed like a homeless man.

“So?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Huh?” Your eyes snapped back to his face and you didn't even realize you were ogling the way his sweatpants hugged his hips a bit too low.

He cleared his throat and looked away, feeling his ears go warm when he noticed your lingering stare.

“The- the packets. Ramen. Where are they.” He mumbled.

“Oh! Yeah!” You blinked. “I set them on the coffee table in front of the TV.” You point at the living room as you begin walking towards it and motion with your head for him to follow.

Ren stopped right behind the couch and eyed the table with a squint. There was a teapot, steaming with boiling water, right beside the ramen packets, but you also had hooked up an old, dusty game console to the TV, which played the mind-numbing 8-bit tune of a crappy co-op game.

He tilted his head.

“I thought you said I could just eat and go back to my room?”

You shrugged, walking around the couch and plopping yourself on your usual seat.

“You can, I just turned that on in the off case you wanted to distract yourself with something else besides your mobile games for once.” you murmured with a pout and grabbed a ramen cup for yourself, immediately going through the usual motions of pouring boiling water into it.

He raised an eyebrow as he sat right next to you.

“I thought you didn't eat this type of food.”

“I mean…” you set a timer on your phone, staring at it as if it would make the time pass by faster. “Once in a while is okay, isn’t it? And I think you need some moral support right now.”

Ren pursed his lips in a thin line and grabbed the cups, reading each label. You really had bought all of his favorites. How the fuck did you even know his favorites?

He stared at you from the corner of his azure eyes.

“Why are you doing this?”

You stared back for a moment and grabbed the cup, pointedly ignoring how it still had 20 seconds to go before being ready to consume.

“You know,” you opened the lid, blowing softly “When you're really upset, you do this thing with your eyebrows and mouth.”

Ren tilted his head in confusion and you couldn't help but think he looked like a puppy sometimes.

“What thing?”

“Like… You scrunch your eyebrows and your lips are very downturned.” You mimicked the expression before dipping the hashi and mixing the noodles. He scoffed.

“That's called frowning. Probably a billion other humans do this when they’re upset too.”

“Noooo, stop. It's different.” You pursed your lips, suppressing a smile.

He hummed, suspicious.

“How so?”

You stared at him.

You couldn't say how he normally just pouted, slumped his shoulders and crossed his arms like a spoiled brat when he was his ‘usual flavor’ of upset.

You couldn't tell that when he was truly upset, like now, his eyes looked dimmed and unfocused, as if his gaze was lost, pining for somewhere distant. As if he was ready to be taken by a tidal wave and taken some place else; some place completely out of reach for you.

You couldn't say that. That would be too much.

So you just shrugged.

“I don't know, it's just different. Anyway. Do you wanna talk about what happened today?”

You changed the subject abruptly and Ren noticed, but his back was hurting and his stomach was growling. He didn't have it in him to pursue whatever thoughts were running deep into the recesses of your mind. Maybe you were right. Thinking on an empty stomach does seem impossible.

He sighed loudly, shaking his head as he picked up his favorite ramen cup, quickly opening the lid and pouring boiling water into it.

“Nah. Just the same stuff as always. Loud people, nosy people. Assignments and a job I hate. I'm just tired.”

You nodded.

“Just remember, you only need to put up with all of this for 4 years in total.” You held up four fingers. “After that, you can bid farewell to everything that annoys you, even me.” You said with a self-deprecating smile before taking a bite of the noodles.

Ren stared at you for what felt like an eternity as you ate. For whatever reason, he hated what you just said; and his own feelings took him by surprise.

The thought of being alone after those months in which you had been there with him as the only good company, the only one who understood him, the only positive influence in his days... it hung a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach.

A foreign bitterness coated his mouth, and he opened the lid of his ramen cup, taking a huge bite and almost burning his tongue in the process. But at least it took his mind out of his thoughts.

“… You don't annoy me.” he mumbled after swallowing and putting the cup back down.

“What?”

“You don't annoy me.” he repeated, louder.

“Oh. Really?” you widened your eyes.

“Yeah. Really.”

You hummed, pensive.

“Does that mean I get to be in your game's guild for more than 4 years?” You smirked mischievously, hoping you could hide how giddy you felt behind your words.

Ren grabbed one of the napkins on the table and threw it in your direction, scoffing, and immediately picked up his ramen cup again.

The steam rose against his face. For that short moment, he could blame it for the redness on his cheeks and the tip of his ears.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you ate, the 8-bit music still looping in the background, but the heightened awareness of each other being so close to one another made it less overbearing.

Ren placed the now empty cup back on the table with a sigh.

“Um…” he began “Thank… thank you. For this.”

You shrugged with a smile and placed your cup right beside his. “No problem.”

Ren fiddled with the string of his old hoodie, eyes flitting towards the tv and back to you as you leaned comfortably against the couch, eyes half-lidded as you stared at the screen as well. He began restlessly shaking his feet before finally speaking up after a whole minute.

“Should- should we try this old ass game then?” He mumbled and pointed at the tv. You immediately straightened up.

“Ohh, I was hoping you'd say that! I really wanted to try, but since it's co-op, I was afraid you wouldn't be interested in it.” You say, quickly getting up and grabbing the two old controllers. "It's split-screen, so I hope you have 20/20 vision, otherwise we'll have a hard time!"

Ren could feel the corners of his lips tug upwards at your enthusiasm and the way you rambled and handed the controller to him with the utmost care.

With an old, beat-up controller in his hand, and you happily sat by his side, Ren's heart lurched forward in the same way it did whenever he knew something important was about to happen.

It was then that he decided he needed to make sure you'd stay with him for longer than only four years.

[the-face-in-the-mirror]

So. Who's hungry?

Just another set of sketches, really; this time focusing on Meliodas' horns! I'm still trying to figure out exactly what they're going to look like, and I am constantly going back and forth between a few options, so I decided to put some on paper to hopefully get my thoughts a bit straight.

Learning to draw horns properly was fun! Especially when they have little twists in them like B and D. I'm a little more partial to the ones that point upwards, though, since I feel like it makes his silhouette a little more dynamic and less... just like a ball of stuff going on, I suppose. But we'll see!

Hope you enjoy, and be sure to let me know what you think! Will it influence my final decision? It just might.

[osarina]

Terribly sorry, minor continuation with Reader ending up with the family instead of the Port Mafia, would she still be called Hime? Or would she have a new alias? It's kind of crazy because she herself has so much lore tied to the Port Mafia and I'm so interested to see how that would change in a different environment with different people

"terribly sorry" you say as if i dont take every possible opportunity to ramble DUFHASIUDFAHS HAHAHAHAHA

but omg ok so this is what i'm thinking. i think maybe the italian army would get to her village first, and from there, she would end up in an orphanage run by the catholic church. after around 2 years there, she ends up getting exposed as an ability user, and the CCA (another faction, specific to italy, commission of counter abilities, because remember, the way i set up mainland europe/asia is that there's a HEAVY anti-ability user sentiment) ends up coming after her and plans to have her imprisoned for illegal use of an ability & failure to timely register the emergence of an ability.

she doesn't end up getting imprisoned because carlo goldoni (current father of the family) intervenes and takes her in. while she's with him, he puts her through a very strict training regiment to hone in/fine tune her ability usage. in that time, it becomes pretty clear he's setting her up to become the next "father" after him. so i think that time period she would have a similar title—not hime obviously because they're not in japan, principessa maybe, but it would definitely only be used in a mocking manner, wheras hime was used both mockingly and respectfully.

THAT BEING SAID, i don't know if she'll still be in that time period by the start of the story. carlo goldoni is not mori, and he didn't "save her" from her village (we'll find out more about reader and mori's relationship in civzai2 soon). she was in an orphange for 2-3 years before the family took her in & goldoni began helping her. so there would be a huge difference in her relationship with mori vs goldoni, and there's a HUGE chance that she might've pulled a civzai1 (killing to take over) much earlier and with much less motive if she decides she thinks she would be better off leading the family.

on a different note, i am also considering giving her a different type of title/moniker because if u remember, the way i've built up bsd universe, the clocktower & the family are constantly at odds with each other, and i do want her "claim to fame" besides her political abilities, being that she pushed the clocktower out of western europe and back into the uk. and i think maybe the moniker would stem from an incident that took place between the two organizations that she was overseeing.

that's all not set in stone yet, im still going back and forth with it, BUT as i said i like rambling so u get my rambles HAHAHAHAH

[animeomegas]

I read your post when I was sleepy and all the facts about hyenas came to mind. Hyenas are matriarchs and I was wondering how this would transfer to communication with Ruggie (if this can even be woven into the omegaverse). Also, male hyenas approach females and move away, and do this several times. Also, females can urinate in the presence of a male so that the male can sniff the urine. So I can't imagine how knowing all these facts one can come up with a courtship with Ruggie. The alpha would have to read a lot to understand how to act, because in fact it is the alpha who does all the courtship rituals. Except for the last one, I think Ruggie would like omorashi. Sorry if I wrote something wrong somewhere, but my sleepy brain was just trying to comprehend all this. Perhaps I will watch a documentary about hyenas when I wake up

Yesss, this is all so good!

Warning: omorashi mention

I was actually thinking yesterday that it would be super interesting if the hyena beastmen were some of the only cultures in Twisted wonderland to note a difference between primary and secondary gender for their hierarchies.

What if for Hyena beastmen, the societal hierarchy went like this:

Alpha female

Beta female

Omega female

Alpha male

Beta male

Omega male

So, Ruggie would be at the very bottom, and the alpha would be above him, although by how much would vary (but they aren't from his society, so it doesn't matter anyway really.)

It would be super hard for an uneducated alpha to court Ruggie, because he can flit back and forth, try to stay on their good side, so chores for them, but ultimately they have to be the ones to start the official courting. He's not going to initiate, no way. It would be crazy in his culture to do that.

I can imagine him stepping in and out of his desired alpha's personal space constantly, and them just ??? being so confused. Sit down?? or leave??? why are you wandering back and forth.

But he would be so very cute and playful once they figured it out and made it official with him 🥺

Also yes fdkjghfdg I could see Ruggie being into omorashi. Both ways around.

I hope both your rest and your documentary about hyenas were fruitful and relaxing XD

[strangerhawke]

how it feels getting through the majority of fics i had planned for The Way We Connect

how it feels realising i need to figure out new plots and places to go with this and also resolve plot points i added in and then already forgot about

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

the way that "entertaining someone" would generally be used as a euphemism for sex but when it's used to refer to lestat daniel just clarifies that he's eating someone. NO pussy, NO bitches, NO louis. you're nothing.

[book-lover85]

Stay at home dad and artist on commission Keefe

[humanmorph]

I understand the arc titles but man AiH - TM episodes had some great fucking names w/ pulling a quote from the episodes

[bitegore]

I think I need to learn to make really unusual book bindings because I keep wanting to bind specific things for myself (sketchbook that is exactly the size of my jacket pocket, for example) and the current one i'm stuck on is "formal-looking notebook outside, leather and shit, with interior binding designed to let you switch out signatures easily and featuring graph paper instead of lined or unlined paper" and I know that that is just a binder. That's literally just what a binder is meant to be. But i also, crucially, want the paper to have a .25cm/~0.1 in grid size and be around 7.5x6cm /3x2.3in. I do not think these sized binders exist and I most certainly do not think that they look good if they do.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Do you ever read a post where someone is explaining a pokitical thing and from the way they're saying you know with absolute certainty 1) they got their info from a tumblr post and have never actually followed up on how feasible that information actually is to act upon (they may not even have checked if it was CORRECT, but when they do they have clearly not looked into how easy or hard it may be to follow those instructions with a positive outcome), and 2) you know WHICH tumblr post they're quoting because it is basically a copy/paste of it, and 3) it was YOUR goddamn post and the thing they are saying is entirely counter to the point you were making when you said it to the point that you genuinely wonder if they just like. Memory-holed the entire context once they saw that one itty bitty point.

It's like the motherfuckiny dating apps all over again. I do not want people to love my words if they are not actually willing to do the work of understanding them! Didn't your kindergarten ever make you play Telephone to teach you how heresay falls out????

[blizzardfluffykpop]

one of these days i'm going to lose whatever sainity i have left and watch chucky... 😔 i used to wanna watch sole-y for tiffany/jennifer tilly- and now with the changmin influence i'm so curious 😔 like as if i don't have bad nightmares after watching most horror content- but like- god- i wanna write changmin as chucky and tiffany as the reader so bad it's not even funny- (ik he views good chucky as his son *which i have been happily able to see most of it until it got too scary* but bad chucky! changmin 🫠)

[dexaroth]

every redesign brainstorming i manage to find 10 new ways of making him look bald somehow